Dearest Apollo, With Gratitude
by GratefulInsomniac
Summary: House and Cuddy coincidentally end up in the same place, for 18 days, finding themselves too interested in the answers to questions to simply walk away. Post Series Finale.
1. Prologue ENDINGS

**A/N**_-This is a post finale fic (I bit the bullet and decided to accept it). _

_This is very different from my last one if you've read it. I will not be trying to right the past, or explain away many of the things that happened. This is a grownup fic, with grownup themes, including mentions of sex and drugs. If those themes bother you, you will not like this fic, so you may want to skip it._

_This chapter sets the stage. I tried to determine "real" ages…(Or at least very close)…with the help of Bakerstreet Blues and JLCH, who allow me to bother them incessantly with ideas and questions about ages and dates (BS B...we may need to see if we can get you a bigger inbox)…they have MUCH better minds for detail than me… Thanks also to JLCH for your suggestions about Cuddy and draft review. _

_I like to begin vaguely, and fill in the blanks as we go, so you will find unanswered questions. I will endeavor to keep my Author's Notes brief (after this one) and the updates regular, likely Monday, Wednesday and Friday on most weeks, with an occasional extra one thrown in for good measure._

_I hope you enjoy it...  
_

**Disclaimer-**_APPLIES TO THE ENTIRE STORY-I do not own the characters of House, MD._

* * *

PROLOGUE

Lisa Cuddy was not having a good day. Two weeks earlier, she turned 55. She told everyone she didn't mind. She ran, she exercised, she ate well…and it showed. She was chief administrator of a large hospital, tired of the restrictions of a teaching hospital, she went for big money, and easily found it on the west coast. Her job was flexible enough that she could attend almost all of Rachel's functions, and she could be home most evenings. She was confident that she was a good mom.

She was leaving for vacation in a few days. She hadn't taken one in a year or two, and when her sister asked if Rachel wanted to fly back east and spend two weeks at a music camp with Julia's youngest, Cuddy and Rachel agreed. Up until three years earlier, Cuddy was single, her life devoted to work and her daughter, but Rachel was coming to the age where it was embarrassing to be seen in public with her mother, and was increasingly putting distance between them.

Cuddy went to the gym one evening, shortly after her 52nd birthday, and met a personal trainer. Gorgeous, 35, and built like he spent ten hours a day working out…because, as a personal trainer, he did, Paul was an easy fit into her life. He was thoughtful, fun, and drama-free. Although he wasn't the brightest man in the world, he seemed well-meaning. He was great with Rachel, and often the picture of an attentive boyfriend, available for movies and dinners out, the perfect date for hospital functions, or to run Rachel home from after-school activities. He and Cuddy enjoyed an active lifestyle, decent sex, and there was never any real tension between them.

Arriving home from a doctor's appointment, she was irritated that Paul didn't show. It wasn't like him. She needed a ride home from the doctor's office that day, and maybe a bit of moral support, and he didn't show up. After the appointment, she made it home, walked through the front door, and there, on the sofa, was her twelve-year-old daughter, kissing her best friend, a boy from school who lived in the neighborhood. Cuddy felt panic welling, and repeated in her head: _Remain calm. Remain calm._ She looked the two kids over quickly, they were sitting upright, both were fully clothed, appropriate buttons buttoned, hands where they could be seen, but disconcerting nonetheless.

Rachel shoved the boy away, reflexively, somehow beyond reason, hoping that if she was quick enough, her mother wouldn't notice the activities on the sofa. "Hey, Rach," Cuddy said, nodding, still reminding herself to stay calm. "Hey, Tim," Cuddy said tensely to the boy.

"Hi, Dr. Cuddy," he replied softly. Cuddy made Tim nervous, she made most of Rachel's friends nervous. "I think I should go home…" he said, his voice squeaking a bit.

"OK. You have a nice night," she said, nodding. Cuddy felt anxiety creeping in, surprised to find her daughter in that situation, still imagining that dolls and crayons were more age-appropriate than boys.

When the door closed behind him, Rachel sat on the sofa, looking down at the ground. "Unacceptable," Cuddy said to Rachel, her voice tense, but even.

"Don't freak out, Mom, it was just a kiss. It's no big deal," Rachel said, her tone full of adolescent irritation.

"I'm…not freaking out. I actually _thought_ I was taking this all pretty calmly. But…tonight, you and I need to talk..."

"NO! God, MOM!" Rachel yelled, throwing her hands up over her face in disgust at the concept. "I learned everything I need to know at school, I know about condoms and STD's and everything. I don't need to hear about this from _you_!"

"The fact that you _think_ the discussion I want to have with you involves _condoms_ and _STD's_…actually makes me MORE concerned than I was," Cuddy responded, the stress and concern now showing in her voice. "I was going to remind you of some ground rules for when I'm not at home…like…no friends…_definitely_ no boys. That rule…hasn't changed. I can't trust you for an hour after school?"

"You can trust me," Rachel mumbled.

"Well, since you are considering _sex_…I guess we'll have to include that in our discussion as well," Cuddy said, one arm tightly wrapped around herself, and the hand of the other arm rubbing her forehead.

"NO!" Rachel said, clearly embarrassed and frustrated, and obviously objecting to her mother's involvement. "I'm not thinking about having sex, I _swear_!"

"You're twelve. I…naively, perhaps…thought I had at least three or four more years before I had to worry about that. Although you really should have known…no boys in this house with you alone. Period."

"I'm not alone. Paul's here," Rachel said, defensively.

"He's here?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah. He was already here when I got home from school."

Cuddy assumed Paul didn't show up to give her a ride because he had to work late, but he was home. She wondered if he was sick, or if something happened. She focused back on Rachel for a moment. "Tonight, 6:30. You and I are going to get some dinner…alone…we'll talk. Like it or not, you're stuck with your mother for the evening."

"Fine," she heard Rachel agree as she left. Then Cuddy heard Rachel grumble, "You're so controlling," just loudly enough for Cuddy to hear.

Cuddy stopped, and thought about turning around and answering Rachel, mentioning to the girl that her own mother, Arlene, would have probably gone completely ballistic in a similar situation, but she decided to save the discussion for dinner that night, hoping Rachel's embarrassment would fade and they could talk more freely. Rachel was rapidly becoming a teenager, and Cuddy felt entirely unprepared.

Paul wasn't in the kitchen, or out back in the swimming pool. Cuddy went to their bedroom, and found him there, two suitcases open on the bed and a few boxes spread around the room. "Hey, Paul?" she said, confused by the sight. "What's…going on?"

"Lisa, I'm sorry. You know I love Rachel…and you…but this…I can't handle all of this."

"All of what?"

"I'm sorry I missed your appointment. Things…have just gotten…too intense here. I need to step back while you get this all worked out."

"While I get things _worked out_?"

"Yea, I hope everything is OK for you, really I do. I'll be thinking about you. When you know what's going on, give me a call. We can talk then."

"Not a _chance_," she said shaking her head, her expression one of shock and disbelief, her arms both tightly crossed in front of her. "If you walk out _now _when I need you …there's _no_ coming back."

Paul offered a sad smile, and zippered up the full suitcase in front of him. "Sorry, Lisa."

It seemed like only moment later, Paul was gone.

_Remain calm. Remain calm. Fuck it. _Cuddy was sitting on the floor of her room, crying softly. Her daughter hated her, her boyfriend left her. She was miserable. There was a soft knock on the door, and Rachel peeked in, "Hey, Mom?" she said, the snark gone from her voice.

"Yea, Baby?" Cuddy answered, trying to steady her voice.

"Paul coming back?"

"I'm sorry, Rach…I don't think so," Cuddy answered.

She waited for her daughter's angry response. Rachel liked Paul, and Cuddy figured the already irritated girl was going to blame her for whatever went wrong, and respond angrily. Rachel slipped into the room, quietly walking over to sit down next to Cuddy on the floor, backs leaning against the side of the bed. Rachel put her arm around her mother's shoulders. "What a _tool, _and I thought I liked him," the girl said, smiling sweetly at her mom.

"I'm really sorry, I know you guys got along really well," Cuddy said.

"Whatever. You don't need him. You can do better," Rachel said, nodding supportively as Cuddy put her head on her daughter's shoulder.

"I love you, Rach," Cuddy said, smiling and appreciating the momentary peace between them.

"I love you too, Mom," Rachel answered.

They sat for a few minutes together before Rachel said, "Any chance I can have Tim over tomorrow after school? I promise I'll behave…"

Cuddy looked at her daughter, realizing that she wasn't looking _down_ to see her little girl anymore, and smiled, "Nice try."

Rachel smiled back and then looked down at her hand, "Can't blame me for giving it a shot…"

* * *

Greg House was not having a great day. Many people would truly envy his life. He worked at a resort, an onsite doctor. Most of the cases were sunburns, and since the beach at the resort was topless, lots of the sunburns were on twenty-something year-old breasts. There were other cases, a few STD's, stomach viruses and hangovers, but mostly, he sat. He had a beach front office, which he often could be found in front of, reading, playing video games on a TV he had facing out the window, answering emails for his entrepreneurial venture, and watching women.

He was physically in better shape than in years past, although chronically unhappy in spite of his improved condition. Most days he was almost completely unshaven, a little intoxicated, and occasionally a little bit high, but stayed away from Vicodin. He avoided opiates cautiously, definitely a weak spot for him, but found plenty of other ways to occupy his time. One of those ways was Tina.

Tina was 32, she appeared at the resort almost two years earlier, and got a nasty sunburn on her tight little butt when she switched to a significantly smaller bikini. They weren't in love, but they had an agreement, a simple, uncomplicated relationship. He figured she enjoyed their life, living at a resort, playing in the sun. She worked shifts as a waitress in the resort restaurant a few nights a week for money, and her good looks earned her good tips. She was gorgeous, relaxed, and easy-going, but certainly not the brightest girl on the planet.

On that particular day, he finished his shift early, just because he felt like it. He was entirely sober so far that day, and felt it was time to change that. He spun the sign in his office window with a cardboard clock that said what time he'd return, and went to his apartment, a moderately-sized room at the resort. He figured he'd find Tina, and they'd decide what to do that evening. None of the options were bad, or particularly wonderful. At some point he'd get laid. Apart from that, if they didn't want to do the same thing, eat at the same restaurant, watch the same shows, they would go their separate ways. Things with Tina were simple.

When he opened the door to the apartment, he found Tina right away. He also found two other men, naked, in his bed _with_ Tina. Leaving the front door open for anyone who may walk past to look in, he walked over to the bedside table, whistling casually, popped open the drawer, grabbed a stack of papers, and smiled at the three naked and clearly compromised people in front of him. Six eyes were all popped wide, staring at him, three mouths hanging open in surprise, and three people, holding completely still, perhaps in the hope that if they didn't move, he wouldn't see them.

"I am _really_ glad that, after all this time, I still insisted on condoms," he said to the bunch, adding to the man closest to him, with a warning tone, "Hope you did the same…"

He shoved a few items in a backpack, stopping at the in-room safe, removing the contents, and shoving them in the bag as well. "Buh-bye!" he said cheerily.

"Wait, Greg!" Tina shouted, prying herself away from her shocked partners, and following him out the door wrapped in a sheet. "I'm sorry! I _love_ you…but you can't blame this totally on me!" she shouted.

"I was not the one who was just engaging in a little DP while the other one was working," he responded, matter-of-factly.

"I'm a young, vibrant woman. I need someone who can keep up with me."

"How many times did we have sex yesterday?" he asked skeptically. _Doesn't matter._

"Baby, hear me out. I was a little tipsy…and one thing led to another…"

"Baby?" he asked, confused by the pet name. "Umm…I'm guessing they're going to expect you to be out of that room pretty quickly after I quit, so you might want to get back there and finish up with _dick_ _one _and _dick two_. I'd say don't call me…but, I'm leaving my phone here, so…call all you want. Have a lovely life."

He went to the front desk, told Pete he was quitting, and placed his keys on the counter. Pete was another ex-pat, the two occasionally hung out and got stoned when Pete wasn't working at the front desk. Pete wasn't a bad guy, but he was a poor substitute for an actual friend. "Now I have to find a new friend," Pete said, rather emotionlessly.

House took a taxi to the airport, and within three hours, he was flying to Los Angeles. It was the first flight he could find away from the resort. He started to consider outgoing flights from there, and possible destinations. He looked over the list and couldn't think of a single place he really wanted to go. When he saw the signs for departing cruises, he realized that a cruise would give him two weeks or so to consider his next move, while scoping out some new places to live. He inquired at the counter, but they didn't have any openings on cruises leaving the same day, they did have a few for the next week. House didn't want to wait.

He slipped into the adjacent bar for a drink to deliberate, trying to ignore the humiliated and angry feeling he had in the pit of his stomach at discovering his girlfriend in bed with two men whose combined ages were less than his own age. Sitting at the bar, there was a couple, newly married, still dressed in their gown and tux. She was screaming at him over infidelity, and House thought about offering his condolences to the bride and discussing his own, very recent brush with such an experience. He decided the last thing he wanted to do was deal with another person, no matter how good looking she was, and said nothing. The groom got up to cancel the trip. He was irate that the cruise line refused him a refund, and House leaned on the counter next to him.

"I'll take your room."

"He has the penthouse cabin, _sir_. 16 days, through the Panama Canal to New Orleans. It's _very_ expensive. And it leaves in four hours," the young, snobby, cruise line representative said to House, looking at him as if he probably didn't have the money for such a trip.

"I'll take it," House said, casually extending enough cash to cover the fees.


	2. Embarking

**A/N**_ Thanks to reviewers-newsession, OldSFfan, CaptainK8, ClareBear14, IHeartHouseCuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, jkarr, dmarchl, SvuGGfan, JLCH, housebound, Little Greg, partypantscuddy, Abby, HuddyGirl, justakissgoodnight, Alex, scheggia, lenasti16, newdayz, Guest -They change how they display anon's…so if you want me to know who you are, put your name in the review, otherwise it just says "Guest" and I can't tell. :-)_

_Friday's installment...a few hours early. Glad people are interested...  
_

* * *

_-Day 1-Saturday Afternoon-_

One of the advantages of having the penthouse cabin, was boarding preference. While piles of people were waiting in the sun to get on the boat, House was being escorted on by a crew member eager to help him with his bags. The crew member was utterly disappointed that House had only one bag, and he wasn't eager to part with it.

He got the key to his room and stopped for a drink at the bar near the boarding area. There would be ample opportunity to people-watch unnoticed while having a drink.

After the first priority guests boarded, House was comfortably sitting at the bar, staring out the window, watching while the next group began to board.

_Hot woman in bikini top…attractive…obviously in search of attention, accompanied by spoiled model boyfriend. Annoying._

_Dumpy looking, uptight thirty-somethings, four of them travelling together. Boring._

_Decent looking pair of friends…might be more fun. With screechy, high maintenance laughs. Awful._

_Completely over covered forty-something…alone…possibly cute…nice ass…_

There was something about the overly covered lone traveller that House found interesting. She was dressed in loose clothes, with three-quarter length sleeves, and shorts that stretched to mid-calf with sandals. He was temporarily distracted by a group of coeds who moved past her in the other direction, but their overwhelming, inflated sense of self-worth became annoying, and he went in search of the covered woman again. He didn't see her immediately, and kept scanning the crowd for something interesting to watch, when the woman moved right into his line of sight again. He was just looking beyond her, when the smallest detail caught his complete attention: the way she brushed her hair back from her face. It was familiar. Unique.

He almost laughed to himself when he realized who the gesture reminded him of, and realized that it was unlikely, no, virtually impossible, that _she_ would be there. As if on cue, she pulled her sunglasses down from her eyes and turned around, almost directly facing him. His drink caught in his throat when he realized he was looking at the one woman he thought he'd never see again.

She was standing before him, clear as day, alone, on a cruise ship. He looked around, wanting to see who she was travelling with.

He hadn't seen her since that brief moment at Wilson's funeral. He was standing at the door when she actually started walking over to him. She saw him, through a sea of black clothes and sniffles, and she was headed directly toward him, her body language certain, but her facial expression tentative. He saw his name forming on her lips, just as two uniformed police officers opened the door, and were standing next to him. Cuddy watched as they arrested him, a sad look of acceptance on her face, and she nodded a goodbye to him before she turned away.

He wondered for years what she was going to say to him, if they hadn't been interrupted. Did she want to tell him off, hit him, did she want express her sympathies over Wilson, or was there something else she was going to say. He eventually resigned himself to not knowing, and never attempting to find out.

When he saw her on that cruise ship, he knew what he had to do. He had to get off of the ship before she saw him. He definitely didn't want to see her and even more, he didn't want her to see him. He and Cuddy had finally made a clean break, they were finally out of each other's lives, and opening that up again was not an option. He guzzled down his drink, and waited for her to go in the other direction. As soon as she did, he was going to head out of the bar and right down that ramp to get as far away from that boat as possible. He didn't care that there would be no refund, any price was acceptable to get out of this unscathed.

He put his empty cup down on the counter and decided he wanted one last look at her before disappearing. For a brief moment his mind wandered to kinder thoughts, she did look beautiful, younger than her actual age, a few streaks of grey in her hair that he sort of found interesting, because it didn't look like she attempted to cover them. A crew member handed her something, obviously whatever she had been waiting for while she stood there, and she looked down at her luggage. He was absorbing one finally glance, realizing that no one joined her, and finding himself far more intrigued by where life had taken her than he wanted to admit, but his mind was made up.

She leaned down to extend the handle on her carryon, a small, rolling piece of luggage that she kept with herself when the crew took the rest of her things to her cabin, and when she pulled the handle to its fullest length she winced. It was small but unmistakable. Then he realized why he didn't notice it was her sooner, she was standing strangely, one arm held tightly against her body. He took two steps toward the door, but his mind was already tempted. He stepped out of the bar, backpack slung over his shoulder, but he didn't walk down the ramp, and far away from the boat. He followed her.

He was at a respectable distance, but he was close enough to see, she was definitely keeping her arm close to her body in a way that she never had before. Possibly a newly healed broken bone, shoulder problem, or recent abdominal surgery, but he really wanted to know. No, he _needed_ to know.

He looked at the pattern on the small piece of luggage that she kept with her. A unique pattern. And there was no way Cuddy was travelling with mismatched luggage.

* * *

Cuddy finally made it to her room. It was nice, with a portal and a small balcony. The room seemed remarkably large for just one person, as she remembered planning the entire trip with Paul months earlier. Rachel offered to cancel her trip and go along, but Cuddy knew she was really looking forward to time with her cousin, and told the girl she really wanted the time alone to think. For all of their battles, in all of their fury, Cuddy and Rachel loved each other dearly. They would willingly fight with each other, but if any outside party committed the slightest transgression, they were vicious defenders of each other.

She sighed as she walked into the room, just a few steps, her luggage was already delivered and sitting next to the bed. There was a fruit tray, and some chocolates on the table, part of the _romance_ _package_. She felt a surge of disappointment as she remembered booking the romance package. Cuddy tilted her head at the one thing that seemed out of place in the room: the missing bottle of champagne.

The romance package included a couple's massage, fruit, chocolate, and a bottle of champagne. There was an ice bucket, but no bottle. She wondered if they'd deliver that later, or perhaps it was in the fridge, until she saw the foil wrapper and cork sitting on the table next to the ice bucket. She felt confused as she stared at it, walking another step forward toward the small black table.

Her thoughts were broken when she felt the sensation of fingers on her arm, and heard a gruff voice grumble, "Sorry about the cork, but I forgot my sword."

Instincts took over instantly, Cuddy braced one fist with her opposite hand and drove an elbow into the gut of the intruder. She turned quickly, grabbing the shoulders of the tall bearded man, and preparing to drive her knee so hard and so fast into his testicles that she was certain she could rupture at least one. She saw the figure tense, she knew, that he knew, that it was going to hurt. He was still clenching his side, unable to react quickly enough to block her, and he grimaced, preparing for the intense pain that was about to follow. He squinted, and she felt this jolt of confused familiarity.

She pulled her knee back right before it made contact. His hands finally reacted enough to block himself protectively. Her adrenaline wore off and she pulled her arm back against her, wincing with pain while he was still doubled over from the elbow to the gut that he had taken. She was squinting in pain and choked out, "House?"

"Where did you learn to do _that_?" he asked.

"After I was assaulted by a maniacal ex who plowed into my home with ZERO regard for my safety…I felt self-defense classes were in order."

"Impressive, but I don't think your knee could stop a moving vehicle," he said, stumbling toward the bed and sitting on the edge.

"What are you doing here?"

"Counting my nuts to be sure they're all there."

"_All_ of them?" she said, their banter almost immediate.

"Fine…both. That was pretty fierce, Cuddy," he said with a slight smirk.

She stopped and really looked him over. He seemed larger than she remembered, more imposing, if that was even possible. His beard was long and shaggy, covering most of the lower portion of his face, since he did nothing to trim or tame it. The hair on the top of his head was equally unkempt, a bit sparcer, which he compensated for by maintaining a medium length, wiry cut that was scattered erratically in every direction. Her open bottle of champagne was sitting, half consumed, on the dresser.

He looked down at his side, still clutching a rib with one hand. She walked over to him, tentatively, feeling strange to be occupying the same bit of air as him. "Let me see," she said.

"I'm fine, you aren't _that_ tough," he retorted.

"I'm sorry. You just scared the shit out of me!" she said. "What was that about a sword?"

"To open the champagne. I was saberless, had to pop the cork like any ordinary guy."

She smirked briefly as a flood of long buried memories crossed her consciousness. "Really, are you OK?" she asked, the concern seeming genuine enough.

"Yes," he said dismissively, swatting away her hands as if they were actually near him. "I'm fine."

She started walking away and dropped one arm to her side, "Why in the _fuck_ did you show up at that funeral?" she asked, her tone suddenly angry, confused and elevated.

"What?" he jumped, startled by her question.

"Why would you show up at Wilson's funeral? You KNEW the cops would wait for you after you made complete _asses_ out of them."

House hung his head a bit and glanced up at her, "He was my friend," he said softly, "it was the right thing to do."

"It was _right_ to go through all of that…to fake your death, to run…just to be arrested."

"I went through all that…to be with Wilson, not to get away with anything," he said, standing up from his seated position, his voice elevated also.

"Wilson wasn't AT the funeral. He knew how you felt," she responded.

"I wanted to say goodbye, is that so fucking wrong?" he yelled.

She shook her head, realizing they were screaming at each other as if nearly a decade hadn't passed since they'd last really spoken. "You looked so heartbroken," she said, sadly.

"I was sad that Wilson died. That…" he trailed off, and then said, looking right at her, a bit more assertively, "It wasn't _Wilson_ who broke my heart. You took the pleasure of shattering what little heart I had…_long_ before Wilson got sick. I guess I should thank you for taking care of that in advance."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, shock and surprise written all over her face. She had no words with which to answer him.

"Anyway," he said, breaking the silence, "I'd figure you'd want me locked up, you should have been happy."

"I…didn't want you locked up. When I got your _message, _I was…relieved you weren' t dead."

"You figured it out? I knew you would," he said, making an attempt to look less wounded.

"I never thought I'd see those panties again. Strangely, since I didn't know where they had been, I couldn't bring myself to _wear_ them," she said with a half-smile, hoping the tension was broken, at least temporarily.

"I did the right thing. I went to Wilson's funeral, I went to prison. I didn't want to worry forever that someone would be waiting to arrest me if I'd visit my mom."

Cuddy nodded, with an empathetic look in her eye. House noticed her other arm crossed her abdomen, joining the left one that never seemed to leave her side. "What's going on with you?" he asked.

"What do you mean, like…overall? That's a lot of years to sum up quickly," she answered. "I'm Chief Admin…"

"Don't care about work. I mean your arm," he interrupted.

"Nothing's wrong with my _arm_," she answered, her face easily giving away that she was hiding information.

"You could have been a better lawyer than Stacy. OK, why do you wince whenever you move your left arm? After you tried to pulverize my balls I saw the same wince, you looked like you were in more pain than I was. Why?" he asked.

"You're imagining things."

"No…I'm not…"

"Yes…you are!"

"Just tell me, tell me and I won't bother you again for the entire trip. Hell, I won't bother you for the rest of your life."

"You are in my room, talking to me…to solve a _puzzle_?"

"Mostly…but the champagne was good too."

"There's no mystery here, House."

"Then…just tell me. Or…you could take your clothes off, and I could conduct my own exam," he said lecherously, "See if the years have been kind..."

"Dream on, House," she countered, but smirked anyway.

"You aren't telling?" he asked.

"No."

"Fine, I'll be watching you…not like you're _going_ anywhere," he said, as they saw the boat begin to move away from the dock through her porthole.

"Good luck with that…" she said.

"OK," he said, almost hopping up, and he walked out of the room without another word.

Then Cuddy _knew_ something wasn't right. Something really wasn't right. She looked around, assuming that House left his cane so he could come back later and get it, but she didn't see it in her room. And he definitely wasn't carrying one. In fact, he left the room with relative ease. She quickly walked out her door and into the hallway and saw him _walking_ away. Not limping, not hobbling, not stumbling…_WALKING._

He had a slight swagger, his right hip would sort of hitch ever so slightly lower as he leaned just a bit to his left side, but he looked more like he had a strut than an old, painful injury. "House!" she yelled down the hall, walking as fast as she could, almost jogging in spite of the pain she felt.

She caught up to him by the elevator at the end of the hall, and got on with him when the doors slid open. "Change your mind?" he asked.

"How are you walking?"

"Well…I lift one leg…and then…"

"Shut up," she chuckled, "Seriously, what's going on with your leg."

He looked upwards in thought and said leaning down near her face, "_Seriously,_ why are you in pain?"

"Why _aren't_ you in pain?" she said, her face next to his, tauntingly, proving to him that she was not afraid of him no matter what had gone on between them, and she wasn't going to start backing down.

"I _am_ in pain…well…a little pain. Why do you wince, what's wrong with you?"

"What happened to your leg?"

"I asked first…why are you in pain?"

He got off of the elevator and she followed him until they were at the door to his room. He did look so much larger than she remembered, and it was really hard to fathom that behind piles of shag, was the most troublesome…and most loved…man in her history.

"Your situation is much more interesting…it has to be!" she said.

"Not to me, I already know the answer."

"There's nothing interesting here, House," she said.

"It's interesting to me," he said softly, almost with concern.

She put her hands on his arms, keeping a healthy distance, "I never thought I'd see you walk like this. This is…unbelievable. I am…so happy for you."

"I never thought I'd see you at all," he answered, unaffected by her statement.

"So…what, you're going to stalk me the whole trip, and I'm going to stalk you?" she asked. "We'll each spend the entire time trying to figure out what's going on. We'll never figure it out. We may come up with…educated guesses…but…I don't think either of us will learn anything definitively."

He thought for a second, looking around, avoiding her gaze. Then he stopped, leaned down just a bit, raised an eyebrow, "Quid pro quo, Dr. Cuddy?"


	3. Quid Pro Quo

**A/N**-_Thanks to all of the reviewers since the last: jkv97, Suzieqlondon, jkarr, JLCH, IHeartHouseCuddy, LapizSilkwood, housebound, Abby, lenasti16, iamawallflower, RedTulipAna, CaptainK8, justlobe, partypantscuddy, scheggia, Little Greg, Mon Fogel, ClareBear14, dmarchl21, Bakerstreet Blues, justakissgoodnight, Boo's House, Huddy Girl, KatieF-House, Alex, IwuvHouse, Holly-Golithly, Kraw, TheHouseWitch, KiwiClare, iridescentZEN, and all of the "Guest" Anonymous reviewers…I wish it posted your names like it used to._

_I took a minute to mourn my last fic…now I'm back. Thanks for your interest…keep in mind, I'm still not a doctor, and I don't even play one on TV…Here's Monday's, early. I'll have another chapter up before Tuesday. I am still insane, but I'm going to try to moderate my insanity to every other day postings._

* * *

_-Day 1-Saturday Evening-_

"Fine. Quid pro quo," Cuddy answered.

"You go first," he said, still standing in the hallway outside of his cabin. "I'll be as forthright as you are. And you know I can tell. If you are completely honest, I'll return the honesty. If you aren't, I'm not either."

"Why should I trust you?" Cuddy asked.

"Why should I trust _you_?" House retorted.

"Because I'm not an insane person, who would fly off the handle, endangering myself and anyone in my way."

"I'm not a controlling, thoughtless, ballbuster willing to drag men into her web just to throw them away at any sign of trouble."

She smirked, her jaw clenching. "Why do you give a shit about what's wrong with a controlling, thoughtless, ballbuster?"

"I _don't_ give a shit, I just want the answer," he said, trying to sound blasé.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," she said, tightening her arms around her body and shaking her head.

"Of _course_ it's a bad idea. You and I speaking is a _terrible_ idea. But now that you're here, I want to know what's going on. Are we…gonna talk out here in the hallway or do you want to go in my room…or yours…I'd hate to violate my own HIPAA rights," he asked.

Cuddy looked hesitantly at his door, "Umm, where do _you_ want to go?"

"I'm not going to _do_ anything to you," he said angrily. "You think I'm going to try to…force myself on you or something?"

"I would never suggest that," she answered back angrily. "You're misinterpreting me already."

What followed was a loud cacophony of arguments with words quick and snippy and almost unintelligible. Accusations, angry words, faces inches away, bodies in near contact without ever actually _making_ contact. They were furiously debating in the narrow cruise ship hallway as if no time had passed between them at all.

Behind them, a cart clambered down the hall. "Congratulations, folks?" the man with the cart said behind them, hesitantly interrupting the argument. "You want to let me in so I can get you set up, sir?"

"House," Cuddy muttered. "He's talking to you."

The room service attendant was delivering food. House turned just long enough to see who it was and looked back at Cuddy, saying, dismissively, "Not mine."

"Yes, sir, it's the '_honeymooners all aboard_' dinner you ordered months ago when you booked...for you and your wife."

Cuddy looked at House, her mouth falling open just a bit, and he could see the look: a little bit of hurt, some jealousy, some definite sadness. "It was great seeing you, House. I'll go."

She began to turn away, and he grabbed her wrist, careful to grab the one that wouldn't hurt her. She looked down at his hand. "What?" she asked.

"Wait a minute," he answered. "Here," House said, hanging onto her wrist loosely with one hand, so she couldn't slip away unnoticed, while unlocking the door with his free hand. He kicked the door open for the attendant, "You can just drop that on the table. I forgot we ordered it."

The attendant went in with the cart to drop off the food. Still standing in the hallway, House said, "What's wrong? You didn't know I was married?"

"I…always assumed that didn't last…"

He let go of her wrist. "_That_ didn't last," he responded.

"I was stupid to think you wouldn't be…that you wouldn't have met someone," she squeezed his arm and turned to leave. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm not…married," he whispered, feeling a little pleased to evoke that response from her.

"Is there a woman here with you? I don't want her to come back to your room and find me, and have some sort of…situation."

He squinted at her, reading her face. "I'm here alone. What about you? Is Mr. Cuddy hidden somewhere on board."

She thought for a second, realizing that if she broke the communication first, it would end their exchange.

The attendant delivering the food stepped out of the room with the cart. "OK, folks, you're all set up!"

Cuddy dug in her pants' pocket and tipped the waiter. She watched the uniformed man turn back down the hall, "I'm here alone."

House nodded toward the room. "You can leave the door open if you aren't comfortable."

Cuddy touched his arm, "I know you aren't going to hurt me. After everything…I was mad. So mad. So hurt. I mean so, _unbelievably_ hurt…and shocked. And on top of that…I felt guilty. Really, really guilty. And I…did nitpick and control…and you did…relapse and go off the deep end…and you did one hell of a job repeatedly hurting me back. Reconciling the conglomeration of feelings I had about you …was nearly impossible."

"Ditto."

"It's been what…eight…nine years. A lot has happened. I don't even…know if I have the energy to be angry at you anymore," she said in a sad tone.

He hated the sound of the words, the way they resonated in his head. The conversation was actually going pretty well, argument and all, until that point, until she said she didn't have the _energy_ anymore. He nodded and said, softly, "Good. We just got one helluva dinner for free, so, why not eat with me? We can eat and I can DDX you."

She watched him walk into the room. She wondered if there was any way she could ever get used to him looking like that. Caneless, swaggering into the room, both hands at his sides, he casually moved through the space. She had seen him get around without his cane, he could do it, he often did while they were dating, once he was home, and had walls and furniture to use if he needed them, but it certainly wasn't easy. He turned around to see where she was, and snickered, "Are we role-reversing?"

"Hunh?" she asked, startled out of her thoughts.

"In what universe are _you_ the one who stares at _my_ ass?"

She chuckled, remembering in that moment how many times he had made her laugh, "It's weird. Seeing you walk around so…easily."

"It's weird doing it."

She looked at the dresser, where a large envelope was leaning against the mirror addressed to 'Mr. and Mrs. Blackburn,' realizing that the honeymoon package was indeed intended for someone else's honeymoon.

"How long's it been? Your leg?" she asked.

"Are you trying to sneak a little information out of me out of turn?" he asked, looking under the dome-lidded plates at the food below. "I call the steak!" he said happily.

"I'll try to mute my disappointment," she answered, sitting down at the table.

He gathered the items he wanted to eat and flopped on the bed with his food, while she sat, shoulders hunched, on the chair next to the table.

She opened a container, forking a spear of asparagus and taking bites so tiny off of the end that he thought they were more for show than consumption.

"Did you give up eating entirely?" House asked, shoving a fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Is this like some sort of one-grain-of-rice-per-day discipline?"

She shook her head no. She was disengaged, and he didn't know if it was because of his presence, or memories, or her own current thoughts.

They ate for a while in silence. "You go first then," he said, trying to spur on the conversation. "Like I said, if you're honest, I'll be honest. Or are you going to make me actually DDX you?"

Cuddy regarded him suspiciously, "I hope you'll honor your end. Because…once I tell you…I really have no more bargaining chips, do it?"

"I'll honor my end," he said," In fact, I'll go first," he said. "As a…show of faith."

She seemed confused, but nodded.

"Alright," he said, "now remember, I expect as much honesty as I give you…"

"Agreed," she answered, eager to hear whatever he had to say.

"Drug trials, are just that…trials. Which means that drugs go through various testing, and that, often, early versions have side effects, and then researchers do what they can to see if they can prevent or allay those side effects."

Cuddy looked at him, unimpressed with his explanation of something she already knew well.

"Give me a second, Cuddy. Anyway. Trials. You remember my…voluntary _unofficial_ enrollment in muscle re-growth drug trial?"

Cuddy's eyes almost closed shut as her mind travelled back in time. She would never be able to erase or dim the images of him, in his tub, after he tried to remove tumors growing in his own leg, or the images of him in the days immediately after that. "I remember," she said somberly.

"Well, there were subsequent formulas of that drug. Which I…may have gotten my hands on."

"House!" Cuddy said, concerned.

"I was actually part of a _human_ trial this time. In Mexico, right after my second stint in the clink…well, after that, and parole, I decided, while I was locked up, that I wanted an end to the pain. And gave myself two years to end the pain in my leg, or…end the pain altogether," he made the statement as nonchalantly as if he were discussing alternative choices in restaurants.

Her brow furrowed with worry.

"Anyway, I tried a few…less successful treatments. I tried some really interesting stuff. Internal muscle stimulation, a surgery to remove scar tissue and even do some rebuilding…these were…useless, and really fucking painful. I was coming to the end of my two year allowance to…fix myself, and I decided, what the hell. I heard of the guy who was conducting the program using muscle regeneration drugs. I tried it. Waited. This one…didn't start to show improvement right away, it was gradual…incremental. But once it started to work, improvements were significant. MRI's revealed no tumors. They did do some muscle stimulation, regular, over the skin style, with the drug trial too, but...overall, it's good."

"You look…taller," she commented.

"I guess it helps when I'm not hunched over a cane and hobbling around."

"That's…amazing. How's your pain level?"

"They tell me I still have pain. It's so low…for the most part really very manageable. Once in a while it gets...irritated. Like going from being repeatedly hacked with a cleaver to being beaten with a cotton swab. To me, it's negligible, but, I have decent pain relief options for when it becomes a problem."

He could see the tension in Cuddy's jaw as she clenched down at what she assumed was a reference to Vicodin. "Non-opioid options," he clarified.

"Really?" she asked, not with disbelief, but with happiness.

He couldn't hide the slight smirk that flinched on one corner of his mouth at the happiness she seem to feel at the news. "Yea," he answered softly, until he remembered himself, cleared his throat and spoke much more animatedly. "Anyway, I feel better, I walk much better, but…it looks like shit. Far worse than before. The additional surgeries, and then an attempt to repair one of the less successful surgeries. Eh, a small concession for a life not filled with constant pain."

He saw her eyes drift to his leg and hover there. "I'm…so happy you aren't in as much pain."

He stood and walked over to grab the bottle of champagne from his own room, popped it open casually, and, foregoing the glasses provided for that purpose, peeled the cellophane covers from plastic cups and filled them. He drifted past her, dropping one in front of her and returning to his spot on the bed.

"That's one less thing for you to feel guilty for," he added. He could see she was considering how to respond, and he said, quickly, before the words could emerge, "Anyway, I was honest, so it's your turn."

She tensed, the happiness she had been feeling on his behalf, slipping away. He could see the thoughts flying through her head, the possibilities, memories, her next course of action. He considered the possibility that she'd leave without telling him what he wanted to know. It was the risk he took when he spoke first, but he was confident he could figure it out if she refused to keep up her part.

"I had a breast biopsy. Two…actually…same breast," she said, proudly looking forward, directly at him, in an attempt to hide her own fears.

The expression melted from his face, and she could see the information being digested in his head. He said nothing, she wasn't even really sure if he was looking at her, or even listening anymore. She thought about getting up and leaving, because she wasn't sure if he wanted to know what was going to follow. When he didn't respond, she thought about fleeing, letting him move on with his life, but he snapped into the moment and looked right at her eyes, "Cancer?"

"I don't know yet. I think so. I found a lump…actually, my…boyfriend did. When I went in, mammogram revealed two masses. They decided to biopsy. It's sore, which…is why it feels better to keep my arm next to body."

He nodded. "Seems abnormally painful…"

"The lumps are really deep. There was a…student. He missed the first time, tried a second time, before someone with more experience took over. She biopsied both masses…successfully."

"You let a student touch them?" he asked, horrified at the prospect. "Why would you do that?"

"I was dean…of a teaching hospital…for years…it felt…hypocritical to not allow a student to learn. They have to start somewhere."

"Not on them," he said, pointing at her breasts. "I'd think as Chief whatever you are, they'd have their best people take care of you."

"I went to a different place to have it done. I didn't want people at work to know."

"When will you get the results?"

"Tuesday morning. I'll call in, and find out. I figured I'd take this trip, one more last hurrah before mastectomies and chemo and everything goes to hell."

"You…don't know that it's cancer."

"I'm ready for the worst, House. That's just the way things go. I have…a feeling. I'm tired…I know my body. This is part of the reason why I don't want to sit here and argue with you. Maybe, I don't have to die with you hating me."

"I…do not hate you," he said calmly.

"I'm sure part of you does. I don't blame you. I hated you for a while…I think. I was angry with you… But…it just doesn't seem worth it anymore."

"But you don't know you're going to die. You don't even know if it's cancer yet. If it is…there's tons of treatment options. Wait and see."

"I'm not going to spend the next couple of days trying to convince myself that it's something else, only to be devastated on Tuesday."

House was thinking, she could almost see the energy as synapses fired. She stood up. "It's been great seeing you, House. I hope…you've finally found some happiness in your life. I wish you the best, honestly."

"So...just…don't think about it until Tuesday," he said, when she got to the door.

She chuckled, "Easier said than done."

"You're on a cruise ship with your arch nemesis. There's plenty to think about. Hang out with me. We can argue, play shuffleboard, buy tacky hats on excursions."

"You coming to my rescue…taking care of the cancer patient, just like you did for Wilson? I can't let you do that again."

He smiled sadly, "Nope, _you_ aren't a cancer patient. You're a woman…with a pincushion for a boob."

She smiled at his joke, appreciating his lack of filter in her usually politically correct world. He continued, "You won't _be_ a cancer patient until Tuesday, and even then…maybe it's nothing."

"So…if on Tuesday, we confirm what I already know is true, and I _am_ a cancer patient?"

"Then I'll kick you to the curb," he said, unconvincingly.

"Why…why do you want to do this?"

"I'm bored," he said.

He didn't believe his answer, and neither did she. "We used to have fun, once in awhile," he said.

"Easy to forget," she answered.

"I know."

Their dynamic, strange as always, filled with underlying tension and sadness. Unchanged with time, disappointment, and years of unhappiness, beneath it all, there was a true sense of compassion and concern. She put her hand on the door knob and stopped, part of her mind wanting to make peace with the man, before the realities of cancer took over her life. She walked back over to him, and sat down next to him on his bed. "If I had a psychiatrist, they'd probably be able to retire off of me," she said.

He silently chuckled, "Me too. Maybe we should pick the same one. We can slowly drive them insane while they make their millions."

She smiled. "Want to know what's really sick?"

"You know how I enjoy your fantasies," he responded.

"I miss it sometimes, House. I really do. I miss being dean. I miss, interacting with you, sparring, I miss Wilson. I miss waking up and wondering what in the hell you are going to do next…trying to plot my counter move. Years of strategizing…just to get through the work day. I tried to convince myself that I didn't miss it. I _didn't_ miss…the pain. The…fallout."

He smiled, "I…miss it too. Before it all…"

"Before…" she nodded. "If we try to hash through the past, it will take a helluva lot longer than Tuesday."

"Agreed. So, we don't. Let's just, be…now."

"OK," she said. "I'll prevent your boredom, and you can stop me from thinking until Tuesday."

"Yea," he said, with a smirk she couldn't really see, but knew existed.

"I can't really read your expressions…with that…Pomeranian living on your face," she said, with a chuckle, the back of one finger smoothing the spot of longest growth.

"I can't read your expression when you dress like a nun," he retorted.

"I don't think that's my _expression_ you're trying to read."

"True. Care to do a little bartering…again?"


	4. Shave and Silk Shirt

_**A/N**-thanks to all readers and reviewers: housebound, jkarr, Bakerstreet Blues, TheHouseWitch, KiwiClare, IHeartHouseCuddy, Suzieqlondon, Fahrenheit451, Little Greg, alddi, CaptainK8, JLCH, southpaw2, OldSFfan, Boo's House, dmarchl21, Alex, Abby, HuddyGirl, Jane Q. Doe, Kraw, ClareBear14, Guest, LapizSilkwood, and partypantscuddy._

* * *

_Day 2-Sunday Early Morning-_

"Let's go," he said, gesturing out of his room.

"I should go to bed," she answered, looking around for a clock.

"You don't look tired. You won't sleep anyway. You'll just lie in bed and think…and you don't _wanna_ think. So, since I've been conscripted to occupy your time, and prevent thought, let's go."

She tilted her head, looking at the clock next to the bed. "I dunno, House, maybe you can start occupying me tomorrow."

"Best offer I've had in a while," he said, leering. "Seriously, stop…being so uptight. No one knows you here."

"You know me."

"Sort of…but not really. Not for a long time. Just relax, let's go," he said, more insistently.

"I'm not as uptight as I used to be…I've really relaxed."

"Yesssss…I can _see _that," he said, patronizingly.

"Fine, I'm coming," she said.

"So, _I'll_ moderate my wildly masculine facial hair, and _you'll_ agree not to dress like a nun for the rest of the trip, right?" House asked.

"Until Tuesday. Or if I see too much wild masculinity cropping up…" Cuddy joked, as they rode the elevator down to her floor. "My percentage of coverage will coincide with yours."

"Cool! In that case, I'm shaving my face, completely clean," he said, flashing a flirty gaze.

"I should have been more specific. My percentage of coverage will _roughly_ coincide with yours."

"So, if I shave my head, will tomorrow be an entirely topless day?"

"No…I don't think so," she said, with a breathed chuckle.

"What about pants-less?"

"Equally unlikely," she responded.

They walked down the hall and House said, after a moment's thought, "So…the boyfriend found the mass, and since the biopsy was obviously recent, that means, the boyfriend was _also_ pretty recent. How recent?"

"Pret-ty recent," she said, pulling her key from her pocket as they grew closer to her door.

"Current?" House asked, a hint of jealousy showing through. "Why leave him at home?"

"I didn't. We broke up."

"I see," he said, confidently, "You decided you were going to go it alone? Spare him the pain of caring for someone sick, before even knowing _if _you're sick, so you 'set him free' so he could move on?"

She offered a sad, thin-lined smile, looking up at him while they walked.

"I hate that stupid crap…" he said, "why be a martyr when someone is willing to be there with you?"

"Fine, he dumped me! Are you happy?" she said, louder than she intended.

"What?" House asked, with surprise.

"The day of the biopsy, he was supposed to go with me to the doctors, he didn't show up. When I got home…he was packing his things and said it was too intense. Told me to call him after I got my health 'worked out.' Hopefully that's enough _honesty_ for you."

"He left you…when he thought you had cancer? What a dick!" House said, as Cuddy stopped at the door to her room to open the lock.

She looked at him, "Is this where we get into an uncomfortable discussion about the past and boyfriends you can't count on to be there when you're sick?" she asked, quietly and without malice.

"Fuck," he started, tilting his head to one side. "I wouldn't have _left_ you…you ended…"

"Let it go," she interrupted. "I'm just…not going to waste my time being angry at him, for something that's…par for my particular course. And_ you,_ are supposed to be distracting me. I don't want to talk about…_that_."

"I'm here now," he said, staring through her, wanting the truth of that fact to be crystal clear.

"Excuse me," she heard from behind her, as the room service attendant, who delivered their food earlier, approached them. "The Blackburn's…yea…your room is up one level. Need me to help you find it?" he offered.

"This is our room too," House answered before Cuddy could.

"You have two rooms?" the attendant asked.

"Yea!" House answered. "She's nervous about the wedding night. She wanted some private time her own room to get herself perfect for me."

"But…you're here with her?" the attendant asked, confused.

"Well…it _is _our honeymoon, and she hates to be apart for too long. Virgins!"

The attendant, looked at Cuddy with surprise, and wordlessly nodded before taking off, with a great deal of speed, down the hall. Cuddy laughed, "Who would believe I'm a virgin now?"

"I didn't believe it when you were 18," he answered.

"Don't remember trying to convince you that was the case," she answered softly. She pushed open the door, and gestured for him to enter.

He immediately went to her luggage and lifted it off of the floor, dropping it on the bed and unzipping it. He held up outfit, after outfit, flinging most of them on a chair. "We're going to have to go on shore at the next stop and find you something…Cuddy-worthy. What do you wear to work anymore?"

"Same stuff as always, but I'm not _at _work."

"See…this…guy you went out with, Fuckwad or Percival or _whatever_ his name was…you let him undermine your confidence. Then you decide you feel dumpy, so you bring all of your nunnery-wear. Actually…some of this stuff is new…isn't it? You recently thought _this _was a good idea?" he asked, holding up a blocky dress that clearly wouldn't have followed her figure.

Cuddy walked over to the chair and began folding the clothes he discarded. "Yea, some of it's new," she finally answered.

"So you bought this shit because you feel old and dumpy…and all it's going to do, is make you feel older and dumpier."

House pulled out a silky nightshirt, "Here you go," he said, holding out the garment. "This is the closest thing to Cuddy-worthy that I see in your luggage. We'll buy new clothes tomorrow."

"I'm not going to wear pajamas to run around with you."

"Just the top. You can keep your pants. It's 12:30. Everyone else is drunk, they won't remember. Which reminds me, why aren't we drunk?"

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Scavenger hunt. But I may need your…assets. Wear this…"

"You're kidding?"

"_Dean_ Cuddy would have rocked that shirt. Trust me. I hate this guy for undermining everything I held dear. Who is he?"

"Nope," she said, pulling the shirt from his hand and walking into the bathroom. She pushed the door shut, but didn't latch it entirely, talking while she changed. "I really don't feel like hearing your take on my previous relationship, because I already know what you're going to say."

"What will I say?" he shouted over to her.

"If I tell you…you'll know…and then you'll _enlighten _me. Next topic."

"Now I have to know," House said, with excitement.

"I'm not telling you."

"You told me everything about your…issues…but you won't tell me about your ex. He's out of your life, so I have no need to be jealous of him…so it can't be that…"

Cuddy walked out from the bathroom in the deep red, silky top, still in the same slacks. House stared at the way the fabric moved around her. "That's better," he said, temporarily distracted from his search for the truth, while remembering the way her silky smooth tops that she wore under blazers at work would feel against his skin. He felt the oddest stab of excitement, remembering the times she slid against him, the silky tops smoothing across his stomach and chest, the fabric whooshing under his hands.

He took a deep breath and banished the thoughts from his head. "I'm still not telling you," she said, as he led her back out into the hallway. "Where are we going?" she asked again.

"Just let go and let me handle it. You said you were more relaxed now," he chastised, "prove it!"

"Fine," she said, nodding.

"OK, so…things Cuddy wouldn't want me to know about her…umm, he could have been very rich…like a…sugar daddy, but you wouldn't need one…so why would that be embarrassing? Maybe he had an embarrassing job, or…is it someone I know?" House asked with concern.

"No one you know," she said.

"OK, Either he's really fucking old, or really young or…" House grinned. "Were you…robbing the cradle? You decidedly did _not_ make a face when I said 'really young.' Cuddy…are you a…cougar?"

"Shut up, that's _exactly_ what I thought you'd say. Does anyone even say that anymore?"

"You are…wow."

"Why is it so bad for a woman to date a younger guy?"

"It isn't, I'm impressed. After me, you'd have to find someone close enough to their sexual peak to even get close to the consistent quality of my performance."

"Consistent?"

"Wait…what does that mean. Why is 'consistent' a question?" he asked, self-consciously.

She turned to him while she walked, "It isn't. Since when are _you_ insecure about your performance? That was one of the things you never seemed insecure about."

"I'm not," he answered as they stood, waiting in front of the elevator, and he repeatedly punched the elevator button.

"Who is she?" Cuddy asked softly.

"Who?"

"The woman who made _you_ feel the way_ I_ feel?"

"You're imagining things," he said.

"No, I'm not. I can tell," she said. "Do you have a girlfriend, House?"

"No," he answered, tersely.

"But you did?"

The elevator finally opened, and she punched the number button inside, so lost in their exchange that she forgot to move gingerly, and winced, just a bit.

"Do you want something for that? For the pain?" he asked.

"No! I'm fine. I handle pain quite well."

"I know you do…but why? You're on vacation, no point in hurting if you can…not hurt."

"I'm not sure I'm interested in whatever _you_ have for pain."

"How do you know, if you don't know what I'm offering?" he asked, clutching his chest as he pretended to be offended.

"You're deflecting. Are you a cougar?"

"I'm a man…I can't, by definition, be a cougar."

"You know what I mean."

"A guy that dates a much younger woman is a genius. And a stud. Both. And that's it."

"Gotta love a double standard."

They found the ship salon, door locked, and House thought for a second. "You know, this place would be so much more fun if we didn't have to bother with things like _hours of operation_ and _time_. After all, I'm figuring if we avoid people and enjoy the facilities when they are much less crowded, it would be better for both of us."

House leaned against the wall, thinking for a second, until she could see an idea flash across his face. "OK, Mrs. Blackburn," he said, as they approached the customer service desk, but stopped before they'd be noticed. "Go to the counter and tell _Skippy_ that this key doesn't work. Ask him to come back to my room with you, to show you, because they already tried giving you a new key earlier. Keep him there as long as you can. And go for the…helpless hottie thing…use what you've got."

"The days of that working are a distant memory."

"I have this feeling like you wouldn't have said that two weeks ago…but…try it. If it doesn't work, pretend like he's a donor…promise him a blow job."

Her face twisted in offense, "I have _never_…"

"Yes…Cuddy, I can see, again, this is the new _relaxed _version of you. Clearly."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. I'll see what I can do. What are _you_ going to do?"

"I'm going to fix our _hours of operation_ problem. Then, I'll meet you in my room," he said, standing up, and beginning to walk away before coming back and whispering over her shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll be back in plenty of time, so you don't _actually_ have to blow the guy."

House watched from a distance as she approached the desk. She leaned against the counter, head tilted toward her shoulder, as she asked, with a hint of flirtation, for help. She was subtle, nothing like how she would have behaved years earlier, but he thought her hesitation made her look more in need of help. The guy behind the counter, shy, probably lonely, reacted exactly as he should have, and appeared eager to help.

Years ago, House thought he might have enjoyed seeing Cuddy a bit less sure of herself, of her attractiveness. But seeing it, he absolutely hated it. She looked really good, amazing actually, particularly given the amount of time that had elapsed and the demands of career, and single motherhood. House couldn't think of a single reason why she should be less sure of herself, from a physical standpoint, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to take her like that, because she just wasn't _Cuddy_.

He caught the door before it closed and looked around the office for the things he needed. Then, he wondered about the ex-boyfriend. House would admit it, silently, he hated the guy. He hated the guy for getting to be with Cuddy, and also hated him for not being with her when she needed him. Then, he thought about Cuddy, and motherhood, and wondered what role her ex played in Rachel's life. He, almost literally, hit his forehead with the heel of hand, as he realized he hadn't even asked about _Rachel_. Admittedly, there was a lot of information to comprehend in a very short amount of time, but he at least wanted to ask. There was so much to learn before Tuesday.

* * *

Cuddy was trying to distract the guy, Skippy. She had no idea what his name really was, and didn't look at his name tag, since she felt House's moniker for the customer service specialist seemed more appropriate than anything his parents could have come up with. She wasn't sure how much time House needed. Once they got in the room, she started asking him about the amenities on the ship, which places to go on the excursions, what food to eat. At the exact moment when she thought she wasn't going to be able to come up with anything else to say, House burst in the room, "Felicity!" House shouted at Cuddy, before turning to Skippy, "Who in the hell are you? What are you doing in here with my wife?"

The guy stood straight up, "Sir, I…her key…she asked me…I helped…"

Cuddy walked over to House, playing the role, "It's OK, I had trouble with my key, Honey," she said sweetly, walking between House and Skippy, and weaving her arm through House's.

He could feel her body next to him, smell her perfume. It wasn't even two full days since he left Tina, but he felt like he hadn't been near a woman in years. They watched, with some amusement, as the guy hurried from the room. "Well done, Cuddy!" House said, "I told you that you still had it in you," he said, turning to face her, purposefully letting his eyes wander, just subtly, down to her chest. He wanted her to feel his eyes on her, and then, he caught the faintest corner of a bruise. The tiny sliver of purpled skin reminded him of the realities lingering behind the game of disregarding reality that they were playing.

He held up a badge, quickly distracting himself from what he had seen. "Keys to the ship…"

"Felicity?" she asked.

"Yea," he answered, "Will and Felicity Blackburn, it's their honeymoon we're enjoying…remember?"

* * *

Cuddy sat in the salon, on a stylists' chair, legs crossed at the knee and swaying side to side, watching, while House hooked up the clippers and started trying to unsuccessfully hack through his long, thick beard.

"So…who's the girl?" she asked.

"Not ready to trade those secrets yet, Cuddy."

He eventually relented and cut it back with scissors before taking the trimmer to it again, leaving just a shadow. "You…are gorgeous," he said to himself in the mirror before turning to her.

She stopped her back and forth swaying on the chair and walked over to him, her eyes squinted with suspicion. "It really _is_ you…"

"You had doubts?" he smirked at her while she scrutinized him. He looked good, his face a bit more lined, but over all, it was unmistakably House, and she found him undeniably handsome.

She put a hand on his cheek, almost involuntarily, before she could realize what she was doing, and felt him, only barely, press his face into her hand. "You look…_really_ good," she said, "it's good to see you." She felt her familiar attraction and heard an entire committee's worth of disapproving inner thoughts and pulled back her hand. "My life…is falling apart…and here you are…so together. Must be fun for you, in a way," she said calmly, without a hint of accusation or contempt.

"I'm not together," he said, staring into her eyes, his voice barely audible. "I'm finally out of pain, I can walk, and I'm still…unhappy…every single day of my life. Fixing my leg…didn't change much. No matter what happened between us, I _am_ having fun with you, the most fun I've had since before Wilson died… I'm…enjoying this suspension of reality that we're sharing…_not_ looking down on you."

Just as his expression melted when she told him about her biopsy, her expression slipped from her face as she saw a sorrow that she had hoped he'd long since abandoned.

He turned away, almost as if he had only spoken the words because he was possessed by another power to do so. In his normal voice, with all of its previous bravado returning, he said, "Come on, Cuddy! I have something to show you."

She looked at the mess of fuzz he left in the sink and on the counter, and walked over to clean it up, but instead grabbed the trimmers, and blew the loose hairs away from it while she thought about cleaning up, and said, "Ah fuck it," and hurried to join him.


	5. Home Remedies

**A/N**_-Thanks to all readers and reviews since the last: partypantscuddy, IHeartHouseCuddy, Kraw, Bakerstreet Blues, JLCH, housebound, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, lenasti16, alddi, OldSFfan, ClareBear14, Ouisti7, CaptainK8, KatieF-House, Suzieqlondon, and all of the Guest Anonymous reviewers._

_I know…I say I'm going to update every other day…and then…here I am. Anyway, next one's Friday_

* * *

_-Day 2-Sunday Daybreak -_

"House," Cuddy hollered down the hall after him, noticing that the sun was rising through the windows in the dining area. "It's Sunday," she said, when she caught up to him.

"Thanks, Cuddy…I'm so lucky you are here," he said wryly.

"No, I mean, it's the next day. I'm exhausted."

He stopped walking and looked at her; she was exhausted. He was pretty tired too. "OK, nighty night," he said, still looking at her, unmoving.

"Are we…gonna hang out tomorrow…or technically, I guess, later today?" she said, handing him the beard trimmers she pilfered from the salon.

"Of course," he said calmly. "I'll find you when I get up."

They parted awkwardly, nodding goodbyes.

Cuddy went to her room, got ready for bed, and tucked herself in to go to sleep. As soon as her eyes were closed, that infuriating sound began to pound in her ears: the sound of emptiness, loneliness, solitude. She had completely underestimated how good it felt to be around something…someone…so familiar. For all that she thought she _should_ have been around him: cautious, guarded, protective…she found herself acting more like herself than she probably had in ages. She listened for a few minutes to the hallway, half expecting to hear the tapping walk of House with his cane. But then, House didn't have a cane anymore. She hoped he would come back, be at her door with an idea, a thought, a proposition, but he didn't return. She drifted to sleep, acknowledging and appreciating his attempt to make her feel beautiful again. She knew his suggestion that she flirt with the crew member to "help" him, and his insistence on different clothes, were for her benefit.

House went to his room and sat in a chair near the doors. The fucking room still smelled like her. Or maybe it was his shirt, from the place where she leaned against him briefly while she played the role of wife, Felicity Blackburn. He wished he could have thought of a reason to get her to come back to his room, but she had to sleep sometime. After all, why would she trust him enough to make herself _that_ vulnerable, and sleep in a room with an ex-con. For years, his life was filled with distractions: the quest to cure his leg, find a perfect job, find the perfect emotionless regular fuck. He found those things, and even after finding them, he craved the familiarity of his past. He craved the normalcy of someone that he'd hurt, and who'd hurt him countless times, but he could feel a compassion and understanding in her that he had never expected.

* * *

_-Day 2-Sunday Afternoon-_

When House woke, he knew it was much later, and that he had slept pretty well, at least for a few hours. He tried to call Cuddy's cabin, but there was no answer. At first he thought maybe she was rethinking their mingling. He wasn't sure if she was even comfortable talking to him, but there was something about the way she seemed drawn to him, or at least drawn to the feeling the two of them seemed to produce. He speculated that she might be checking out the amenities on the boat, and had a few ideas of where she might linger, so he finished getting ready and opened his door, only to find her preparing to knock. He actually grinned and then tried to hide it. "You stalking me, Dr. Cuddy?" he asked.

"I just…thought I'd check on you. I thought maybe you were…rethinking us hanging out."

"I was wondering the same. Tried to call," he said, and then felt embarrassed for letting her know that.

"My cell's off."

"I left my cell behind…and I don't have your new number anyway. I tried to call your room."

"Oh, must have been showering," she said, the two looking awkwardly around.

"Let's eat!" he said happily.

The two went to eat, and chatted occasionally over their meals. "How's the _Lesser Cuddy_?"

"Not lesser in height," Cuddy asked.

"Rachel's taller than you already?"

"Yea, barely, but she's still got growing to do."

"How old is she?"

"Twelve."

"Holy shit," House answered. He knew her age made sense, given the lapse of time since he and Cuddy collapsed, but he wasn't quite prepared for the answer.

"How's she feel about you being gone?"

"Haven't hung out with many pre-teen girls lately, have you?" she asked with a chuckle.

"No…strangely they seem to frown on old guys hanging with pre-teen girls…"

Cuddy laughed. "I think she's happy for the space. I caught her…kissing her best friend."

"I always wished her mother made out with girls."

Cuddy poked her food, "Her best friend is a boy."

"Hanging with the guys, just like mommy," he commented.

"I guess. I went home the other day and caught them on the sofa."

"Go, Rach!" House cheered.

"No! Not 'go, Rach,' she's not supposed to be interested in kissing and boys!"

"Gotta happen some time. You have a picture?"

"Of Rachel?"

"No, of you kissing girls…Of _course_ of Rachel!"

"In my room, I'll show you later," she said, surprised at what appeared to be very genuine interest.

After they ate, and they were leaving, the air was a bit tense, while House thought of what to do. He took her to the small clothing shop, and told her not to come out until she found, "something to wear for the rest of Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, or the face gets it," he said, pointing at his stubble while she giggled. He wandered through the sundry shops, until she came and found him with a bag full of new clothes.

"They didn't have much," she said.

"Well, first excursion is tomorrow…Cabo…we can look for appropriate garmentage then. Some sort of…completely inappropriate bikini."

She smiled, but he could see she looked uncomfortable, he couldn't tell if it was from nerves or physical pain. "Come on, something to show you in my room," he said before leading the way.

Once they were there, she leaned against the wall, waiting. "Ta-dah," he said, holding up a plastic zip-top bag.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Try and play innocent, Cuddy…"

She squinted, "You're kidding!"

"Herbal pain relief," he smiled.

"Effectiveness as an analgesic is highly…"

"Shhh," House interrupted, "those words sound like working. Besides, it's organic…I think…"

"I can't believe you are carrying around marijuana."

"There's a prescription. Somewhere. Picked this up quickly before I left."

"When you left? Was it unexpected?"

"A bit!" he said, with a smile, as he rooted around in his backpack.

"How'd you get here? Does this have to do with the girl?" she asked while he rolled a joint. "I'm not smoking weed with you."

"Is that what they call it? The kids these days? This is prescription only…so I don't think you can call it _weed_. Pain relief is not something to be taken flippantly, and I'm a little offended," he teased.

He smirked at her devilishly, and she responded, "I said no!"

"You said 'not with me'. Does that mean you will if I step out?"

"Why do you want me to?"

"Because it's fun…and the pincushion will feel better. I'll get some ice too, and we can pretend like it's an official doctoring thing."

"I'll come back in an hour," she said.

"Come on, Cuddy," he said, a little disgusted. "You said you were more relaxed…and don't pretend that I forgot a few of the more relaxed times we had together…some Fridays…that one weekend…back when we were together…even uptight Dean Cuddy let her hair down now and then."

He was so damn adorable half pleading with her, and he knew she thought so. He could feel her resolve cracking. "Are you trying to manipulate me?" she asked with a smile.

"Yup," he answered, but she turned to leave. "Fine, I'll give you what you want…I'll tell you about the girl," he offered suddenly.

"Really?" she asked. "You want me to do this…_that _badly?"

"Yup. Of course, you'll have to tell me about Percival too. It's only fair."

She smirked, "Paul."

"Fine…Paul," he said. "Come on, you totally win here."

"I dunno…" she said.

"No one will ever know. You and I have plenty of dark secrets, you know you can trust me," he said, continuing his stare.

"Fine," she answered.

* * *

It wasn't long before the two were happily lulling, a bit giddy, but mostly relaxing into the furniture. Although Cuddy was hard to convince, he knew she'd relax and enjoy herself, she had on a few occasions in the past.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

She held a bag of ice over her sore breast and nodded, "Yea, thanks for the doctoring."

"Any time."

"Only you would want me to get fucked up so badly that you'd trade secrets."

"I probably would have told you eventually anyway," he said.

"Right…"

"Yea, I would have…because I want to know about your guy."

"I already told you about him."

"Not all of it."

"So…tell me about this girl. You left suddenly…was it because of her?"

"Partially," he answered. He thumped his head softly back against the headboard from his seated position on the bed. "Tina," he said softly. "Came into the resort office where I worked. I was bored, so we had sex. Then I took her home. Kept her there."

Cuddy blinked, "Really? For…how long?"

"A couple of years."

"Year-_s_?"

"Yup. She didn't expect anything of me, we could…do our own things, have sex, occasionally eat dinner together…didn't fight…didn't ask me to do any chores…"

"Sounds…convenient," she said.

"Friday, I went home after work…caught her fucking two guys in my bed."

"What?" Cuddy gasped. "Are you _serious_?"

"Oh yea. Two guys whose combined ages were still less than mine."

"I'm sorry, House."

"I'm guessing it wasn't the first time. It's so strange because I really felt she was getting boring…apparently she was just bored…with me," he took a slow drag.

Cuddy put her ice on the table, got up, and walked over to him, sitting on the bed and leaning against the headboard next to him. "You must have completely lost it!" she said, taking the joint from his hand voluntarily, and receiving a surprised look from him.

"I didn't really," he said after a few minutes. "I took my backpack, grabbed a few things that I needed…speaking of which, I'm going to have to buy a few more clothes too…anyway…I went to the airport. Flew to LA, found the Blackburn's in the middle of an argument and here we are."

"Nothing at all like when you and I broke up," she said, before realizing her words. "God, House, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!"

"It's fine…it's true," he said, looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm so sorry for…"

"Let it," he said, "it's fine. We're fine. But no. It wasn't like after you. Because…" he rolled his head to face her, "Because she wasn't…you. Never loved her." He furrowed his brow, before shutting his mouth, not wanting to say anymore. "Your turn to get the drinks!" he said loudly, pointing toward the in-room fridge.

She got up and got their drinks from the fridge and returned. She saw the look on his face, and hated any part she ever had in putting it there. He was trying to look unaffected, but she could see. He was wounded, hurt, his pride stung by the betrayals of women in his life.

"You should be sort of proud…" she began.

"How's that?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well…you slept with her regularly…in order to find something comparable she had to find two, much younger guys…two…to your one…so really, in a sick, and mean way…it's a compliment. You're still better than guys half your age."

He smiled at the sentiment, and said, "I think there were probably a lot of guys…filling in the blanks…while I was with her…I just caught her that time."

His were eyes on her, appreciating her attempt to make him feel better.

"So you _do_…feel like I feel…" she said softly.

"Maybe," he answered.

She hated seeing his confidence shaken in that way. Tina made a fool of him by cheating, and Cuddy knew a big part of his irritation was his failure to notice. He looked so defeated still, and she knew she was part of his history of defeat. "You know," she said, leaning back against the headboard, "She's a complete idiot…You were _always_ amazing in bed. If I were her, at home, waiting for you, I wouldn't even be _thinking_ about another guy."

He nodded, clearly interpreting her statement as flattery, "Thank you," he said, absently.

"I'm serious," she said, more assertively. "Even just…kissing…do you know my last boyfriend was absolutely convinced that my uvula was an erogenous zone? He'd kiss me, like I didn't even…have lips…straight for the uvula. It's really hard to get turned on like that."

He turned to her, chuckling a bit at her mocking of her ex.

"You," she continued, "something about the way you'd kiss me…could have me ready go. So forget her. She's a stupid bitch."

House chuckled as Cuddy defended him. He was pretty sure it was the weed. She was both animated and relaxed, and her filters were clearly dislodged. That didn't stop him from wanting to hear more. "So…for the benefit of…any other women lucky enough to have me…" he began.

"Yea?" she giggled.

"What was it…that you liked?"

"I dunno," she closed her eyes, remembering. "Just…"

He sat, watching her face, enjoying the happy look on it while she thought of something about him.

She got up, took another swig of her drink and looked at him again. He smiled at her, it was sweet, relaxed, but still so very sad. Underneath his pleasant smirk, she could still see the same, sad man she left years earlier. The guilt gripped at her, as her need, her desire, to _stop_ the pain for once, to no longer be an active contributor to anything negative in his life, overwhelmed her. She walked over to the bed and knelt next to him on the mattress, sitting on her feet, now taller than him. He looked up, "You've finally decided to drive that ice pick through my head?" he teased, eyes half lidded.

"The best thing about you kissing me…" she said, her voice soft and raspy, "was the way you wanted to do it _with_ me. It wasn't an invasion…it was a dance. I mean, sometimes we were rougher, sometimes more tender, but it was always…an enticement…a way of reminding me why I wanted to do…other things with you…like…a promise…an expression of your desire…of your passion."

He looked up at her, only with his eyes, his head still. "Oh yea?" he said.

"For the benefit of all of your future conquests…" she said, now much closer, the air warm between them.

"They'll appreciate that," he said, heavily.

His hands were folded in his lap, loosely, the relaxation of his posture, the antithesis of the tension brewing in his mind and his chest.

"You used to…" she leaned down, even closer, checking his eyes one last time for permission. Her lips grazed across his lower lip, then the upper, before gently pulling his upper one between her lips. She felt him tense just a bit, before allowing himself to open his mouth slightly. Her tongue slid, smoothly, over his upper lip and then just barely in his mouth. He tried to not react too much. To just let her kiss him, because he had no idea when him baring his soul became her kissing him, but he was really happy he bared it. Happy and terrified.

She tilted her head a bit, so her lower lip was now between his, and he involuntarily closed his lips over her bottom one, their mouths were staggered and pressing, pulling, sliding together luxuriously. Her hand went to his chin, tilting him where she wanted him, and he could feel…she was _being _ him. Telling him she remembered how he kissed and touched her, that she remembered little details. He found himself trying to remember her reactions to his advances and realized he already was reacting as she had. That his body was automatically responding in a way that was uniquely theirs. She backed away slowly. His expression was blank, eyes wide.

She sat down next to him, confused by her actions and his subsequent expression, not certain what she should do. Did he want her to leave? Was he sad, hurt, angry? She couldn't imagine any reaction that wasn't somehow negative.

"You," he said, after a few minutes of complete silence, "were …really amazing to kiss." He said, his voice gravelly, "Kissing you was better than actually fucking most women."

He shook his head just a bit, feeling like he shouldn't have said what he just said, worrying that it sounded stupid, and getting ready to blame the weed, and then she said, "Was there…something I did…in particular? That you liked?"

His eyes travelled to hers, feeling a sense of wonder at what he knew was an invitation.

"Well…when you were aggressive, turned on…" he looked at her for a moment and before she could react his lips were on her, tugging more urgently, more roughly. His teeth scraped gently against her, just forcefully enough to make desire swell to the surface and convey the need behind the interaction. "But," he said, pulling back slightly, so he was speaking against her lips, "if it was the morning after…you would…"

He started, just closing his lips around hers, sharing breath with gentle caresses and flicks of his tongue, before sealing their lips together completely and backing away into smaller, more delicate kisses.

They were both breathing heavily, pupils dilated, staring.

"So, you remember?" she asked, staring right into his eyes.

"Definitely," he answered, their lips still nearly touching, eyes still locked. They were breathing and feeling the other's presence so near. "Want to go look for places to break into after the morons go nighty-night?"

"Yea."

"We can hang out some place safer…without a door and a bed?" he said with a smile.

"That sounds great," she said, smirking just a bit, both still unmoving. "Since we probably shouldn't be thinking about...what we were probably thinking about."

"Yea," he answered, still smirking, "we probably shouldn't be thinking...about _that_."


	6. Show and Tell

**A/N**-_thanks to all of the readers and reviewers: partypantscuddy, hughsoulingregsmind, KiwiClare, Lapiz Silkwood, JLCH, Josam, Ocean's Writing, Kraw, housebound, Mon Fogel, Bakerstreet Blues, IHeartHouseCuddy, Phyna, Alex, TheHouseWitch, Abby, HuddyGirl, Suzieqlondon, lenasti16, CaptainK8, ClareBear14, dmarchl21, RedTulipAna, LoveMyHouse, PaulaAbdulChica2007, Sami (sweetstrawberrygirl), and Zaydasky._

_I know story alerts are down right now, so I don't know why you guys'll see this.  
_

* * *

_-Day 2- Sunday Evening-_

They were getting ready to leave House's room to explore the ship, but when Cuddy put her hand on the door knob, she heard House clear his throat while he held up her shopping bag from earlier in the day. He shook his head and dumped the contents out on his bed. "We have an agreement," he said.

She walked over the bed looking down over the clothes. He held up each article, no longer needing to throw any in the chair. "Much better, Cuddy," he said, stalling when he found a dress. "Very nice, wearing this tonight?" he asked, staring down at her.

They agreed they _had_ to behave, they laid out a stunning argument, based on fact and reason, including her outstanding test results, the fact that they had only just met again, the fact that their history was filled with mutual destruction. And yet, as he stood over her, holding the dress, and she moved closer, looking up at him, they could feel the irresistible lure. "I'm not going to wear _that_ to go check out the pool or the casino…no," she said, flirting blatantly through her tone and manner.

"Just try it on," he said, watching her calmly, "let me see it."

She looked up at him, feeling the attraction, so desperately wanting to kiss him again, to feel him, standing in front of her, to feel his hands around her instead of idly in his lap, to wait for him to pull her tightly against him. She tried to reign in her thoughts and find a return to logic. "We better go," she said, evenly.

"Why?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"You know why!" she insisted.

"I want you to explain it to me."

"Because you are going to hand me that dress…and I'm going to put it on, and you are going to look at me…in the way that you do…and I'm going to forget logic and reason…and we're going to spend the next couple of days chained to that bed."

"Chained…metaphorically, or literally?"

"Metaphorically," she answered with a grin.

"I'm fine with either option," he answered, teasing, "I just wanted to be sure of what we were talking about."

"What happens on Tuesday then, when my results come back, and they're bad, and you…follow through with your promise to kick me to the curb?"

"I didn't promise that. I _said_ that. I said that because you _wanted _me to say that. And what you mean is, what happens Tuesday, when your results come back fine, and you don't have an excuse to run away from me," he said, his face sad again, "because that is the more frightening outcome."

"No!" she pleaded, "You were just looking happy again…don't look…sad. I thought we weren't dealing with Tuesday's issues until Tuesday."

"Agreed, so let's act as if today…everything is fine and break out the metaphorical chains."

"Just because I don't want to deal with Tuesday doesn't mean I don't know it's there."

"It's not going to make a difference…not to me. It's not going to go wrong…but if it is, I'll make it up to you."

"Make what up to me…cancer? I don't blame you for…"

"What happened before," he interrupted adamantly. "I'll be…there…I can help you. Even if…worst case scenario comes up."

"You don't owe me, we aren't keeping tabs. There is not enough paper or processor power available in the world to keep tabs on everything that has occurred between us."

"And yet…here you are, making out with me in my bed. Couldn't keep your hands to yourself for even three days," he said in a joking tone, but she knew the truth in the jibe.

"Because all of the insanity will never change the fact that we will always be attracted to each other. We will always hate the thought of the other one in pain, or sad…or with anyone else."

"Which of those things…is a bad thing?" he asked.

"None of them. The problem comes when our own dysfunction takes over. When things are normal. Quiet."

House abruptly turned toward the door, and Cuddy began to accept the fact that he was leaving. That the discussion broke down just that easily, and then she started to feel deeply unhappy. She hated the sinking feeling that was already in her stomach, and despised her own need for someone when she wasn't supposed to need anyone. "Please," she said loudly, "don't go. Don't leave."

House stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back, "Wasn't leaving. I was putting a few feet of space between us under the guise of grabbing my drink."

She walked back to him again, feeling vulnerable and open and for some strange reason, she didn't care. At that point she didn't know if it was from her own fears for her health, or the pain of being _so_ easily left, _so_ recently, or if it was just because of years of unacknowledged _missing him_, but it didn't matter, because for those seconds she made herself entirely vulnerable to his rejection.

He studied her, standing before him, looking weak and scared and lonely, and the fact that she allowed herself to look like that, in front of him, made him believe that she was as willing as he was to be something different than what they had been. "You looked sad and I wanted to give you some space, I want to stop you from feeling like that…just as much as you want me to stop feeling like that. But…if I see you looking like that, I'm probably going to try to comfort you, which means I'm going to hold you. And if I hold you, I'm probably going to try to kiss you, and then my hands will start roaming to the good parts, and then your hands will roam to my good parts, and we're back to the metaphorical chains in the very real bed. All roads seem to lead there. I'm…respecting your wishes. But I'm better than the last idiot. I wouldn't treat you like he did."

"I know you wouldn't… I do not want you to go through everything you went through with Wilson all over again. I can…hire nurses to help. I don't want you to watch me while I fall apart. I want you to remember me as I am now. Scratch that, if I have a choice, I want you to remember me as I was ten years ago, but I'll take today. What are you going to think of me after they take my breast? When all of my hair falls out and I can't even walk anymore."

"Not gonna happen. And even if it did…when the chemo's over, you'll have plenty of time to make it up to me. I…admire the landscape…believe me…no one admires the landscape like I do…but it doesn't mean that's the only reason I'm visiting the country."

She chuckled at his flattery, hidden, not at all subtly, within a metaphor and then said, sternly, "That…is not fair to you."

"No," he said, "You're wrong. What's not fair is preemptively pushing me away. So don't do the predictable thing," he said, the distress clear on his face. "Don't try to do what you _think_ is best for me when I'm _telling _you: it's not what's best for me. It's not even _good_ for me. It's not even _neutral_ for me. It's _bad_ for me."

"So what do we do? We have lifetimes of proof that we don't work. That we hurt each other. How do we…sift through all of that?

"Let's prove things are different. You're right, we can talk about this shit forever, and we don't know where we'll end up…we only know where we've been. Where we've been…sucks."

"Not all of it…"

"No, not all…but…a good deal," he said, his face thoughtful as he comprehended the past.

"I hate it when you look so…sad," she said out loud, still standing in front of him.

"What was it you did earlier…" he tapped his face with a slight smirk, pretending to be searching for answers, "I know you did something that made me feel a little better…"

He glanced down her lips and she couldn't help but be amazed that they were still so damned attracted to one another. She guessed it was just the fact that they were both so wounded, and they found comfort in something they knew, but she knew how desperately she wanted to find comfort with him, she knew he was willing to provide that comfort and seek it for himself.

They both knew how dangerous it was. They both accepted that they _could _implode. One argument, one misspoken or misinterpreted statement, and they could be in complete mutual destruction mode. This time they didn't want that. They knew the paths where that mutual destruction led. They knew they didn't want to be _there_.

He leaned down just the slightest, more to provide an invitation than to make himself accessible, and she reached up for him, almost unable to stop herself from finding that comfort and losing herself in it entirely. She tentatively braced a hand on his chest and his hands reached with slow precision out for her hips. She felt his long fingers slip around her, steadily tightening his grasp and easily pulling her forward. They each sighed, just a bit, as their bodies grew closer than they had been and groaned their contempt when there was a knock at the door. "Your room. I'll let you answer it," she said, as she backed away to the bathroom to let him deal with the interrupter.

When she came back from the bathroom, wearing one of her new outfits, but not the dress, he held up a paper, "Our itinerary for Cabo, tomorrow. The Blackburns are just…crazy…let it loose kinda people! Care to live vicariously through them while _actually_ doing what they paid to do?"

Cuddy smiled, "Sure! It's not…spear fishing or survivalist camp, is it?"

"Nope! We head to shore at 11 tomorrow morning."

* * *

They walked all over the ship, finding the spa and pool, and stopping for a fantastic dinner. "I have to call Rachel tomorrow," Cuddy said as they ate.

"She with your mom?" House asked.

Cuddy smiled stiffly, "I forgot you didn't know…Mom died."

He looked legitimately surprised. "Really?"

"Yup, our theory that her desire to judge would keep her alive indefinitely…disproven."

"That's…too bad. When did it happen?"

"She died the year after Wilson, House. Breast cancer."

His chewing slowed, although he tried not to let it show. She could see the ding in his confidence, the suspicion that maybe things wouldn't all be fine with Cuddy. He rebounded from his surprise quickly, hoping she didn't see his certainty vacillate, but he suspected she noticed. "So, Rachel's just crashing with her new boyfriend or hanging out at the local crack house?" he teased.

"Julia," Cuddy answered, "she invited Rachel out for camp with one of her kids."

"Julia…" House said, his face displaying his disgust.

"Yea…she's still my sister. She's actually taken mom's place as lead judge. When we're done eating we can go to my room, I'll show you a picture of Rach."

"OK," he said, with a little smile, definitely interested in who the little girl was becoming.

"What about your mom?" Cuddy asked.

"She's…still alive. I spoke to her a few months ago."

"Wow, how old is she?" Cuddy asked, surprised.

"Umm…let me think. How old is dirt?" House answered as Cuddy laughed.

They got up to leave the table and Cuddy could see a bit of a limp returning to House's walk. At first, she didn't want to say anything, but he noticed her watching him walk. "It's fine," he mumbled, "lots of walking today. Just gets tired."

Even at his worst, his limp was barely noticeable, still no need for a cane or support, but it was a reminder of the injury that was so obvious and defining for so long.

When they got to Cuddy's room, she sat next to him, powered on her phone, and showed House a few pictures of Rachel.

"She's really tall, Cuddy, hell," he said when he saw the first one.

There was a picture of Rachel and some friends. Next, there was a picture of her swimming in Cuddy's pool, "Where's that?" House asked.

"My house," she said calmly.

"Wow…so that's where you live now?"

He looked the picture over, for some reason still always picturing her in the home he had known, the one he practically lived in with her. This new place was much fancier. "You must really do well," he commented, flipping to the next page.

The very next photograph was Rachel and Paul standing outside of a stadium. "Fuck, give me that," Cuddy said, trying to grab at the phone, which House kept just out of her reach.

"I can handle it. This is more proof. I'm proving to you that I can handle the concept of you dating another man."

The more House looked at the picture, the more he wished she had gotten the phone away from him and prevented him from looking. "Jesus, Cuddy, what is this guy?"

Paul was extremely handsome. He had dark hair and light blue eyes and perfectly colored skin. He was very well built, tall, fit and young. "He's a trainer," Cuddy said, answering House's question after a while.

"Yes, I can see that. This is what you go for?" House asked.

"Paul was very uncomplicated. We didn't really have great talks, never had great fights, or great makeups. But, he was consistent and present…ironically, until he left."

House kept looking at the picture and she could see his insecurities. "Well I'm sure, if he's built like that, he must have some sort of…hideous deficiency he's trying to make up for."

Cuddy looked away, distracted by something that clearly wasn't there. "Cuddy?" House said.

"Physically…not really. We met at the gym. Three days later he brought me flowers. We went out."

"Any idiot can buy flowers."

"He wasn't creative. Ever. But I thought he'd be there. For Rachel. And me. I was convinced I could count on him. When he left, he said…he loved Rachel…like he really meant it, and then at the end added that he loved me. He was probably ready to leave long before he did, but stayed because he really liked her," Cuddy said, not upset by the prospect, merely stating an observation. "He stayed for the kid, and you went out with me in spite of having a kid."

House was still staring at the picture, but then started filing through the rest, looking at other moments of events and people around Cuddy, although none of her since the pictures came from her phone. "You know," she began, after a few minutes of silence, "Paul had the strength to fling me around like a doll. Probably could have tried any position, had one of the best bodies I've ever seen, from an empirical standpoint."

"Thanks, Cuddy," House interrupted.

"Let me finish. He _could_ do all of those things…but he _didn't_. He was fine in bed…I mean nothing horrible, but what a waste, to have that sort of physical capability, and be fine with the everyday, boring use of that capability. I hated not feeling…inspiring enough. Guess it wasn't worth the effort. Talk about a disappointment!"

"That's what you get with guys who bring you flowers," House teased.

There was silence for a few minutes and then she said, "I need a nap if we're going to go out and do stuff tonight."

House got up to leave and she stopped him, "Stay here."

He limped, just slightly again and she added, "Can I see?"

He wasn't going to show her, because he didn't want her to know. He wanted to her to assume that his new leg came with increased mobility, greater strength, significantly less limp and a much prettier look. But as he told her, it looked terrible. He decided to show her, assuming that she' be distracted later, if they ever decided to allow their feelings to become physical, and he didn't want to have a fun or intimate moment destroyed by his leg. He casually unbuttoned his pants, and let them fall down, sitting on the edge of the bed. He waited for a look of horror, or an expression of sympathy, and he was dreading it. She looked at it and said, evenly, "Quite a few surgeries looks like, you must be so relieved most of the pain is gone," and then she gestured for him to lift his legs onto the bed and she started to rub it.

He had patterns of crisscrossed scars to the point that he looked like a patchwork quilt along his upper leg. The shades of skin ranged from pinker, newer scars to darker patches and faded white lines all around his thigh. He hated the way that it looked. He went to great lengths to keep it out of sight with Tina, really with everyone.

But Cuddy didn't look at all horrified, in fact, she really barely _looked_ at it at all. Her request to "see" it wasn't out of morbid curiosity or to gawk or even for medical concern, she just wanted access. She was completely undistracted by it, discussing their plans for later, their excursion to Cabo, all kinds of things that weren't his leg. She had occasionally rubbed his leg for him when they dated but then, the pain was so horrible it was distracting.

Her attention felt fantastic, soothing the sore tiredness. "Feels better," he said, wanting to settle in and rest.

She started to lean back into the bed, and patted the spot next to her, encouraging him to stay. He kicked off his shoes and hiked up his jeans, before he put his hands on her arms, sitting her back up, and she sat cross-legged on the bed to face him, assuming that he wanted to talk. His finger trailed the tiniest portion of her neck and then his hands met at the top button of her shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Can I see?" he asked, mirroring her words.

"I dunno, House, that's not a good idea," she said, but didn't move her hands to stop him.

His fingers popped the top button open, then moved, with focused precision, down to the next button. Cuddy looked nervous, but he wondered if perhaps his acceptance of her current condition would help her the same way her nonchalant reaction to his leg helped him. He felt liberated by the fact that she had already seen it. When he popped the next button he was certain she would physically take his hands and stop him, she looked that uncomfortable. She didn't stop him though, not wanting to be a hypocrite, wanting to extend him the same trust that he extended her with his leg.

She was unnerved, the warmest combination of fear and arousal as the memories of the millions of times he'd removed her shirts before teased her senses. Then she realized he was going to look at her, he was going to see a definite lack of perfection, and he had once practically worshipped her form. She decided it was better for him to look, to get it over with, to be able to make a decision about whether or not he'd continue with her. His insistence that he'd be around to help her if she had cancer would be preliminarily tested in that exact moment.

When her shirt was unbuttoned, she looked almost queasy with worry. His fingers moved from her collarbone to her shoulders, mirrored on each side, as he pushed the fabric of the shirt down off of her shoulders and let it fall down her arms. He reached behind her with infuriating calm and removed each arm from her sleeves. She really thought she was going to stop him, and she thought maybe she should stop him, but she didn't, when he reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She held the bra to her front and he waited, patiently, for her to make the decision for herself. Not wanting to force her, or make her too uncomfortable, he expected that she give him the same trust that he'd given her.

She eventually let her bra fall forward. She was painfully bruised, all shades of purple, brown and yellow and he said calmly, "Bruising's healing pretty well, in a few days most of the soreness should be gone."

His evaluation was neither sexual, nor clinical, nor solely observational. She nodded, relaxing a bit, and was going to pull the bra back up over herself. "Perfection as always, Cuddy," he said, "in a few days, this will be a distant memory."

She nodded and watched as he lowered the strap from her other shoulder and nodded. "House," she said, with a gentle warning tone, "Are we toeing the line here…or just blazing over it."

"Has nothing to do with the line," he whispered, before helping her lower onto her back.

He rested one hand along the bottom of her ribcage and scooted closer to her. He pulled her close, still shirtless, but drifting into an easy sleep. She felt so relaxed, so wholly accepted. When her fingers started to trail along the side of his face, around his ear and along the edges of his hair, he felt a sense of peace and calm, and acceptance as well, while he joined her in sleep.


	7. Thinking

**A/N**-_Thank you to all readers and reviewers since the last time: sweetstrawberrygirl, IHeartHouseCuddy, scheggia, newsession, KatieF-House, touchatoucha7, OldSFfan, RedTulipAna, Bakerstreet Blues, housebound, Suzieqlondon, sin101, berenice, Abby, KiwiClare, Alex, HuddyGirl, partypantscuddy, dmarchl21, PrincetonBlues, lenasti16, Boo's House, Mon Fogel, LoveMyHouse, Josam, ClareBear14, justlobe, LapizSilkwood, and all of the Anonymous Guest reviewers._

_I'll try to get one "extra" in this week, since next weekend there won't be any again. More soon.  
_

* * *

_-Day 3-Monday Morning-_

House woke up with Cuddy next to him, and waited a few minutes while the memory of exactly how she got there came back to him. They were in her room, and they missed their overnight exploration of the pool in favor of sleep. She was curled up close to him, probably due to the cold of the air conditioning, and pressed tightly against his side. He thought about leaving to shower in his room, and realized that if she woke up during his absence, after all of the trust they had built the night before, it would likely give a very unfavorable impression.

She sighed against him as he tightened his arm around her. He smiled and then wondered if she even knew it was him, or if she thought it was someone else next to her. Watching her sleep, the contented look on her face, he hoped her thoughts weren't of anyone else. She sighed, "You still feel the same. I've dreamt about you sometimes, ya know? There for a while, I was dreaming about you a lot."

He wasn't even sure if she was awake or asleep, so he just hummed his agreement and hoped she'd carry on. She continued, "Funny how some things don't change, even after so long. I missed you. I've sometimes hated myself for that. Why would someone who tries to have everything together keep desiring something that always turns out so wrong?"

There was little doubt she was thinking of him. "You miss _me_, or having _sex_ with me?" he asked.

Her eyes opened up fully, "You. Are you really asking that? If I just missed having sex with you I would have days ago."

"Even with the full-on beard?" he asked, his tone light.

"Umm...well, for sex with you…I probably would, but…if I had a choice…I prefer the 'toned-down' version of your scruff."

"You keep talking about how you like to have sex with me, but are not having sex with me. There's this…weird…gap in your thinking that I'm not quite getting."

"I'm just worried," she said softly.

He pulled her closer, kissing her neck and collarbone and letting his hands roam along her back, "Forgot you were innocent."

"You could probably read a recipe in that voice and seduce me," she giggled.

"You don't have to be worried. I can be…really gentle…and patient," he said, his voice rumbling, as he nuzzled along her neck.

She moaned, just the slightest sound, and pressed his head toward her. "God…umm…wait, not about that, you ass," she smacked his back softly as she giggled, but was unable to stifle another sigh. "I'm preoccupied until tomorrow. And we are going to Cabo in two hours and I have to call Rachel before we go."

"Fuck Cabo! Who wants to go there? Did I say I wanted to go there, because I _never_ wanted to go there! Actually today, I really don't want to go much of anywhere," he joked in an animated tone. "You can call Rachel. I'll allow that," he teased.

"How kind of you," she answered sarcastically.

"What's there to be nervous about then? I mean, I know you're worried about the results, but that won't change anything, not for me. I want you to believe me."

"I don't want to do the 'one last time' thing. That's…so depressing," she said calmly.

His face blanked as easily as if he'd been hit, because, emotionally, he had been. His guard was dropped, and he was completely vulnerable and then she said _that_. "I gotta go," he said quietly, standing up and walking toward the door.

"Why?" she asked, thoroughly confused and quickly grabbing her shirt and wrapping it around herself.

"That was…low, Cuddy. Seriously low."

"Why?" she insisted, "I don't understand."

"I thought we were kind of working on stuff…at least trying to do things a little differently. Not having a quick travel fling."

"We _are_ working on stuff," she insisted, hopping up to follow him. "Stop, seriously, you are completely misunderstanding this."

He wasn't sure why he hesitated, perhaps to give her a few seconds to redeem herself, perhaps because he _wanted_ to have misunderstood.

"One more time, before I find out my health's going to hell," she said, clearly articulating her thoughts. "Not…one more time between us."

"Oh," he nodded. "I thought…"

"I know…that's _not_ what I meant," she said, stepping forward and leaning into him with a hug.

He wrapped an arm around her, casually, taking a long, slow, deep breath. "Am I a secret little fling? A moment of insanity excused by stress?" he asked softly. "I deserve to know where I stand."

"Of course not," she answered. "I already told you, I don't want you to feel responsible for me or to think that…I'm interested in you because I need someone while I'm sick and scared, because that isn't the case. I can hire someone to take care of me…but not as a…guy…"

He nodded and half-smiled, she could see that he was taking it all in, pondering the facts.

* * *

They agreed that Cuddy should call Rachel, and they should go on their excursion. Everything seemed OK between them, but the mood was a bit more cautious. She invited House to stay while she called Rachel on her phone and put it on speaker so he could hear the kid he last knew as a small child. After exchanging greetings for a few moments, and admitting that she and her cousin, Logan, were having an amazing time, Rachel said, "So, you aren't just sitting around being all…mopey…are you, Mom?"

"No…I'm having a really good time!" Cuddy answered.

"You _sound_ better…" Rachel said, suspiciously.

House watched Cuddy with interest as she spoke, leaning back into his chair, feet up on a coffee table, and smirking just a bit.

"I feel better, trust me," Cuddy answered. "What are you playing?"

"Music," Rachel answered, and they could hear the sarcastic smirk in her voice.

Cuddy looked over and saw House's playfully smart-assed grin, and imagined Rachel making a similar face. House almost looked proud.

"I'm a lot better than I was last year," Rachel answered.

"Yea, definitely," Cuddy responded, remembering how awful Rachel's playing was when she first started to learn.

"Mom, look, don't take this the wrong way…"

"Oh god," Cuddy said, bowing her head, "Whenever you start anything with 'don't take this the wrong way'…"

"Hear me out," Rachel said.

House looked on with amusement, he could almost hear Cuddy in Rachel's voice, in her inflection and cadence, and he could also hear a definite dose of snotty, sarcastic teen.

"OK," Rachel continued, "Please…go make a friend. Paul was a nice guy, I liked, him, really I did, but I…don't know if he was the right guy for you anyway. I don't think you should hide in your room on a boat…you don't have friends anymore…you need a _life_. I'm not going to be home forever, and you need to have fun, because, you _used_ to have fun…but it's been a long time."

"Is that what you think?" Cuddy asked.

Rachel tried to read her mother's tone but was unable, finally adding, "Notice I'm smart enough to say that when we're almost three-thousand miles apart."

House was grinning again, and Cuddy looked at him, smiling, and said, "I made a friend already."

"What?" Rachel questioned, with enough surprise to have been told that her mother was piercing her nose, shaving her head, and joining a riot grrrl band.

"Actually…more like…re-made a friend."

"Not Paul, Mom…I'm sure he rethought everything and came crawling back, but, as much as I like him, you don't need…"

"Not Paul," Cuddy interrupted.

"Someone from work?"

"Someone from college."

"Oh! Is he hot…for an old guy?"

"He's definitely hot," Cuddy replied, staring at House from across the room.

"Is he fun?"

"Oh god yes. I'm having more fun than you'd ever think."

"Mom having fun…what does that look like anymore? Maybe you guys exercised or discussed the new equipment you ordered at work…" Rachel snickered.

"Almost, we went through emails…and then discussed stricter parenting strategies for really smart-assed kids...uproariously fun!" Cuddy teased.

"Har, har, har. Really, Mom, that's so cool," Rachel said. "Am I going to meet him?"

"I don't know where he's going when we get off the boat," Cuddy said, still watching House as she spoke, "But, if things go well…I'll definitely invite him to come meet you. We'll see…we just started talking."

"That's good," Rachel said, "Just take it slow, get to know him. Things change over time."

Cuddy laughed at the very grown up, very somber, words her daughter spoke, and at House's silent scoffing at Rachel's suggestion to 'take it slow.'"

"I gotta go…and, if it doesn't work out, the drum instructor here is pretty hot for a fossil."

Cuddy chuckled, "Thanks, Baby. Love you."

"Love you too. Talk to you in a few days," Rachel answered.

When the call ended, House looked at her, "I can't believe you told her that you met someone," he said with surprise.

"I'm sorry…" Cuddy replied, crestfallen.

"It's cool, it isn't a bad thing," House clarified, "it's a surprising thing."

"I want you to know I'm not playing with you," Cuddy said, "If I tell Rachel, hopefully you'll understand my sincerity."

"Thank you," he said genuinely. "You know…I really liked the kid until the whole 'taking it slow' thing…what in the hell does she know," he added with a half grin.

* * *

They rode the ship's tender to port after preparing for the day. The air was still a bit tense, fears of test results, and still in a very real way, on both parts, rejection, were still pervasive after the morning's miscommunication. They were met by a bus that took them to another location.

When they arrived, they realized they were with several recently married couples. "What are we doing today?" Cuddy asked.

"Don't expect too much," House answered, "I still suck at this."

"Suck at what?" she asked while they waited in line.

"Dancing. But, I learned a little…Tina liked to dance…and since I actually could, I figured I should…so I suck _slightly_ less."

"You don't have to do this," she answered.

"I know," he said quietly.

"This is the _crazy_ stuff the Blackburn's are into?" Cuddy asked.

"By _crazy_ I guess I meant traditional…and completely predictable. But…what the hell…for us…traditional is the opposite of our normal, so…in our own way, we _are_ doing stuff that's pretty crazy."

At the end of the line, they found themselves in front of a professional cameraman. "OK, folks!" the photographer said, gesturing them in front of him. When he noticed their hesitation he said, "You get a picture on each excursion, they'll put them together and you'll get them on your last day."

The photographer scanned the card they carried with them to attend all functions, and handed it back to House. They stood stiffly, waiting for their picture to be taken. "Guys…" the photographer said sarcastically, "It _is_ your honeymoon, you're allowed to stand closer…at least try to act like you aren't already headed for divorce."

Cuddy sidled closer, and House wrapped an arm around her as he whispered, "It _is _our honeymoon, right…Muffin?"

She looked up at him, smirking just a bit, "It sure is…Sweetie."

He smirked back and they settled toward each other, a bit more comfortably. His hand slid down her back and, just before the photo was snapped, House palmed her ass. The photographer previewed the photo for them. House had a devilish grin on his face, Cuddy's eyes were wide with surprise, and right across the bottom of the photo, in scripty flowing letters it said, "Will and Felicity."

Strangely, even dancing, what should have been completely permissible touches, started off awkwardly. Their instructor, a pile of emotional flamboyancy, tightly wound in a diminutive frame, would come up to the two of them and look suspiciously over their interactions. Cuddy was still a bit sore for the more robust moves, House was a bit tense and uncertain, but as they learned, they found themselves laughing, often at the instructor's excitement and choice of overly sexualized instructions.

The instructor stood next to them and placed her hands on each of their backs. "Why are you so tense? How long have you known each other?"

Cuddy laughed, "Over thirty-five years."

"Wow. You must know each other very well," the instructor commented, "I don't know if you don't like dancing, or if maybe you had a fight, maybe your wedding was stressful…stop thinking so much…thinking can ruin _everything_. Enjoy the music, go with the rhythm."

When the instructor left, House lifted his eyebrow and whispered to Cuddy, "Do you think we should have told her that we're tense because I have issues with drugs, _and_ you dumped me almost a decade ago, _and_ I subsequently engaged in a variety of behaviors that led to my eventual imprisonment…twice…_and_ we only just met again a few days ago…_and_ we're only impersonating a married couple?"

Cuddy smirked at the absurdity of their reality and relaxed into him a bit more. The longer they danced, the more they shared laughs and the more they forgot they were supposed to be tense at all. Cuddy's pain faded a bit, House's awkwardness abated, and they both became quite comfortable being close, even though there were people around them. In fact, they soon forgot that other people were there at all.

The studio was warm, open-air, with a breeze from the ocean. The instructor was still loudly and enthusiastically shouting helpful tips to each couple, and House and Cuddy didn't hear any of it. He had his arm snugly around her waist and was holding her flush against him, completely disregarding the heat. His other arm was outstretched with her hand clasped in his. She laughed at something he said, she was laughing an awful lot, and looked up at him, and she looked radiant, her skin flushed from heat, exercise and laughter. He was sweaty and equally flushed, a gentle smile across his face until he really looked at her, and their smiles slowly faded. He could see in her eyes a happiness that was entirely unfamiliar.

Their dancing slowed in time with the disappearance of their laughter, and turned into an intimate sway that was no longer concerned with the rhythm of the music. "A very wise and slightly irritating woman once said, that thinking can ruin everything," Cuddy said, quoting the dance instructor, "Do you think there's something to that?"

Cuddy ran her hand from his shoulder down his chest, allowing her hand to settle, palm open, against him. "Yea, I _never_ think!" he joked, "It always gets me into a lot of trouble."

Her other hand tickled the back of his neck, and his eyes glazed over, just a bit. After a few moments she said, "I'm…_really_ tired of thinking."


	8. Stealing Honeymoons Rocks

**A/N**-_Thanks to all readers who are sticking with this even though I can't seem to do daily updates anymore, and all of the reviewers since last time: JLCH, lenasti16, Alltheloveinthew, LoveMyHouse, Josam, berenice, IHeartHouseCuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, OldSFfan, skieathuddyrepeat, , justlobe, LapizSilkwood, Mon Fogel, Suzieqlondon, ClareBear14, Little Greg, Jane Q. Doe, Abby, Alex, Huddygirl, LEfan77 and all of the Anonymous Guest reviewers._

_*This chapter includes adult content. _

* * *

_-Day 3-Monday Evening-_

After their dance class, House and Cuddy shopped for much needed clothing before heading back to the ship. They sat, quietly side by side, arm to arm, on the seats of the shuttle boat. Her arms were crossed and as he sat there, he felt her fingers extend, just a bit, to rest on his arm. "You thinking?" he asked.

"Not really _thinking,_" she answered. "That…was unbelievably fun."

"It was pretty fun…wasn't it?" he asked. "Surprised even me."

She smiled at him, delicately, easily, probably as close to without thought as she was ever able to be in her adult life. They carried their acquisitions back, and he followed her lead. She went to her room first and stopped, leaning against the door and looking up at him.

"So…" House began, "You want to come up to my room, hang out tonight, until…tomorrow. Make any necessary phone calls together."

"I need a shower after all of that dancing," she said, staring at him while he looked around.

"Can I watch?" he joked, half hoping that she'd invite him.

"I'll be up as soon as I'm done," she said with a smile, kissing his cheek quickly before he walked down the hall, "I honestly had _so much_ fun."

"Me too," he answered, while he was walking away.

When she was done showering and dressing, she went up to his room. he was already showered and waiting, wearing only his jeans. "You hungry?" he asked.

"You know…not really," she began, as she walked over to him. She reached up to kiss him, pulling him down toward her, but she could feel his hesitation. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I know that look," he said suspiciously.

"I thought…you _liked_ that look."

"Under most circumstances I am _immensely_ fond of that look…I'm actually that look's biggest fan…however…"

"Here we go," Cuddy said, sitting down on the bed, and placing her hands in her lap.

"What?" he asked.

"We're going to do what we almost always do. One runs while the other pursues."

"No we don't."

"Yea…we really do. The time's always right for one of us, but not the other. Well…almost always. It's fine, I don't want you to do anything you aren't into…but that's one of our great patterns."

"What about…tomorrow…and not wanting to have a 'one last time' sort of feeling."

"I'm not thinking, House. I'm tired of thinking. You seemed…like you were into it this morning…I thought you might still be into it tonight. It's fine. Let's just hang out and go check out the casino tonight…or the pool…whatever."

House sat next to her on the bed, opening his mouth several times to speak, but he continuously stopped himself from speaking and went back to his thoughts. Finally, after several tries, he said, "I guess we do…often do that."

"Yea, I know," she replied.

"So if you weren't thinking…what changed your mind now?"

"We were dancing most of the day…in each other's arms, touching. We had a good time…it was sort of…arousing I guess. My mind's been going in that direction for most of the day."

"Ah ha! I thought you weren't thinking," he playfully accused.

"I'm not. My mind is just sort of…hovering around the thought of sex since I woke up with you this morning."

"That…is so hot…" he replied.

She smiled, broadly, "I can wait a little longer."

"Yea," he said, nodding. "We'll hold off until a much better time."

"Sounds good," she said. "So…what do you want to do for now?"

He looked out the window for a minute and then sighed, "It'll be a few hours before the idiots go to bed."

He looked over at her, at a tiny little trail of water that dripped from her damp hair down her neck, accentuating the smooth stretch, the long, slender line from her jaw down to her shoulder. Remembering the times when he saw the same exact occurrence, years earlier, he recalled that, despite his attempts to foresee failure, he didn't actually anticipate the last time he'd see that. The last time he'd be allowed a moment of Cuddy unguarded. Once she broke up with him, there was little that could have destroyed the metaphorical walls they built.

He leaned much closer. She felt her skin flushing as he stared at her, the warmth spreading, almost uncomfortably, up her face to the top of her head. Reaching her ear, he whispered, "We could go check out the shuffleboard games…"

She immediately tilted her head, allowing him access to her neck. He kissed slowly, just tiny pecks, down her neck, to her shoulder and collarbone. She could feel all of the warmth that had pooled around her face flood southward as she softly moaned. "Or," he continued, "We could check out all of the ice sculptures at the buffet…I hear they're lovely."

She nearly giggled as she said, "You just teasing…playing games?"

"Probably," he answered. "But, by your logic, if I'm _actually_ pursuing, it's your turn to run away…to stop it."

The toll of a day of closeness was evident: the escalation of attraction and desire until it could no longer be contained. "Can't count on me to stop it…I stopped thinking a few hours ago," she answered.

"You do know that this is _really_ insane, don't you?" he asked.

"Oh yea, completely," soft whimper, "insane."

His hand settled on her opposite hip, farthest away from him, pulling her just a bit toward him. She leaned back down onto the bed, her hands moving to the back of his neck at the base of his skull, bringing him with her. He was half on her, half next to her, the warm length of her body pressed tightly between his form and the bed. He sighed his appreciation for the feeling of her against him, and she wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him closer. "You should have," he said between kisses, "realistic expectations."

She chuckled at his concern, took his face in her hands and said, "No way."

"Huh?" he answered, temporarily stunned out of his veneration of her face and neck.

"I have never had realistic expectations of you…you thrive under pressure," she said, with a teasing inflection, before kissing him, and moving her body closer to his.

"I really do," he said when they broke apart.

"You aren't thinking about…_that_ are you?"

"Who's thinking?" he said while his hand became steadily braver, roaming away from its former resting place on her hip to her waist and thigh. "I'm not _thinking. _ I'm feeling," he continued, as his hand slipped between her skin and her shirt and rubbed the soft smoothness of her abdomen. Next he returned to her lips, "…and tasting," he said as he kissed her. He left her lips and lifted himself from her while he removed her shirt and bra, "…and experiencing, I like to do that."

He was watching the way her breath quickened, the way she was acting and reacting to each touch, each kiss. For all of Cuddy's cool and controlled professionalism, his attention still made her just a little bit nervous. With him there still was excitement, risk, tension, uncertainty. In spite of all of those associated feelings, or more accurately, partially _because_ of those associated feelings, there was always heightened passion, a thrill to go along with the physical stimulation.

She felt as watched by him as she was the first time, every time, because every single time he was visually consuming her for his enjoyment. Although it _was_ scrutiny, it was not for the purpose of judging but for pleasure, an enhancement of the situation. As always, he saw her as completely perfect.

She was far from passive as her hands sought and found every touch she missed, the shape of his shoulders, the strength of the muscles in his back and sides, and savoring the pleasantly familiar stubble against her skin. The thought did cross her mind, both of their minds, that they should probably stop this before it went too far, but the line that was so easily crossed was already well behind them, and neither had the desire or inclination to follow through with stopping something that felt so amazing, as well as frighteningly familiar.

He pulled one nipple into his mouth, feeling the jolt of excitement when she moaned in pleasure. His hand travelled to her sore breast, treating it gently, but lavishing it with an equal amount of attention. She was already wiggling beneath him, and there was something about her need, about the fact that he could already tell that she wanted him to fuck her before his jeans were even off, that aroused him beyond reason. He slipped off the edge of the bed, bringing her shorts with him, allowing his hands to skim over both legs, to feel the elevations of her body as both hands met near her heat. He kissed her through her panties, and felt her pushing up against him, trying to find some friction so that she could begin to sate her increasing need.

He slipped his fingers beneath the band of her panties to pull them down, watching as they crossed her thighs, her knees, her calves, and finally slipping them over her feet. He crawled back up, finally so near her that she could feel him, although he refused, at first, to touch her. His fingers were all along her thighs, the crease of her legs, her hips, and he kissed languidly closer to her core. He finally traced his tongue over her, to part her, so he could taste her fully while he held her hips as still as possible and she pushed upward. He focused his attention more directly, his tongue sliding and circling, and, moments after his fingers slipped into her wetness, she came. The anticipation, the patience, was too much for her body to tolerate any longer. He kept his fingers inside of her as the final pulses of her receding orgasm faded, and he placed steady upward pressure, keeping her stimulated without overstimulating. His face returned between her legs as he licked and lapped gently at her, just lightly at first, until he realized that she _was_ moaning again.

He built her up again, slowly back toward a crest, her body writhing, and he was able to control the pace of her ascent much better. After allowing her to hover around her second orgasm he sent her crashing over. She sat up partially, the tension in her body causing her thighs to quiver along either side of his head. She flopped back and felt his fingers pressing and pulsing in her, "Please," she shouted, "God, please, you have to fuck me."

His eyes opened wide with amusement, "I don't _have to_ do anything," he answered, while he moved up onto the bed, pulling off his jeans and lying next to her. "You were the one who said you had high expectations…that's like a dare…isn't it?"

Her hands were immediately on him, relishing the feeling of his hardness, the outward signs of his attraction to her, his need for her in that moment. She reached off of the bed for her shorts, pulling a condom from her pocket and hurriedly putting it on him. She straddled him, wasting little time, and guided their union. After two tentative plunges she was moving more quickly, her entire body experiencing the pleasure they were creating and wasting little time. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of her incredible tightness, and the feeling that he knew exactly how it felt to be inside her, that, somehow, she felt different than anyone else.

His hands moved along her thighs, her hips, stomach and breasts, and he had to look, he couldn't help it. He held her hips against him, rocking and grinding them tightly together for a moment, and listening while she moaned at the different sensation. He sat up, then stood, with her legs wrapped around him, still inside her, and stepped toward the wall. He had a very pleased look on his face as his far more functional leg gave him the ability to slam into her against the wall, listening to the way she moaned, smashed between him and the kitschy wallpaper behind her. "Wanted to do this to you…for so long," he mumbled, never missing a beat. The tiredness of his body didn't even register compared to the pain he used to know.

He allowed his brain to really think about what they were doing, about the way she felt and sounded, and that he felt un-alone and whole, sexually, physically, for those few minutes. When she started to moan harder, when he knew her orgasm was close, his body began to release into bliss, his own orgasm triggering hers, while they clung to each other as if they held their last connection to safety.

He leaned against her, hand braced against the wall, as she slid back down to the ground, "Thank god for high expectations," she mumbled against his lips, kissing him gently.

House woke up two hours later to find Cuddy staring out the window, a bag of ice resting against her breast. He could see it, the terror that had settled in, as she waited those last few hours. The sexual tension had been a fantastic form of distraction, preventing her from thinking too long on the phone call that was only hours away. He snuck up behind her, kissing her cheek and whispering, "You sleep at all?"

"Not yet."

"I guess I did," he answered.

She laughed for a moment, "It was worth it. _Believe _me."

"And…sorry about that too," he said, pointing to the bag of ice.

"Still, completely worth it," she said with a devilish smirk.

He smiled, "What do you want to do? Want to go see what we can get into? OR…we could have sex again."

She acted as if she was deep in thought, "Listen to that crappy band in the bar…or sex…hmmmm."

She stood and approached him. "Seriously?" he asked, with sheer happiness and surprise, when he realized she wanted exactly what he wanted.

"Seriously!" she answered as she pushed him back toward the bed.

* * *

Later, they crept out of their room, stopping by a vending machine to eat food Cuddy swore she wouldn't be able to stomach, but surprisingly found to be very tasty. They walked around the deck of the ship, the sky dark except for the light from the quarter moon, their paths lit by small running lights along the edges of the railings of the boat and the occasional light next to a door. House smiled when she took his hand while they walked. "Thanks for preoccupying me," she said.

"Any time my penis can help us to attain mutual goals…I'm on board."

She giggled and shook her head as they walked. "So what actually happened to the real Will and Felicity?"

"Well, sadly, Felicity caught Will cheating…right after the wedding ceremony with a scantily clad guest."

"I'd figure a bridesmaid."

"That's what I might have thought in your position…but no. A guest."

"Too bad," Cuddy said.

"Yea…too bad," House agreed, "However, while they were struggling through their problems, you and I were reconciling ours. Their loss…our huge gain. You have to admit, the honeymoon dancing thing was probably the clincher."

"The clincher?"

"Yea…the final thing that got us to do what we've been doing pretty much ever since we got back from the dancing," House explained.

"It was…extremely romantic."

"See…stealing honeymoons rocks."

They smiled at one another, each trying to look calm, each trying to be a confident presence, while they awaited the results, but they could both see so easily through the façade, the silent fear behind their eyes.


	9. Knowing

**A/N**-_thanks to all readers and the reviewers since the last part: partypantscuddy, Alltheloveinthe, housebound, Josam, bonneiyy77, JLCH, lenasti16, IHeartHouseCuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, IWuvHouse, OldSFfan, southpaw2, touchatoucha7, Suzieqlondon, Mon Fogel, CaptainK8, Abby, dmarchl21, Alex, Boo's House, momsboys, HuddyGirl, ClareBear14, scheggia, RedTulipAna, LapizSilkwood, justlobe, jehabib1 and the Anonymous Guest reviewers._

_This is Friday's chapter a bit early. Next one will be Monday._

* * *

_-Day 4-Tuesday Morning-_

The sun's rising provoked a horrible blend of anticipation and dread, the hope for answers, for concrete fact, countered with the concern that the news would be something that would end the flimsy sense of happiness they seemed to temporarily find. They sat, making a half-hearted attempt at breakfast, silently waiting for time to pass.

"I want you to be painfully honest with me," he said, the tension settling between them again.

"If there's one thing we can do, it's cause pain," she replied, making a joke that immediately fell flat.

"Sex too," he answered. "We're good at doing that. Sex and pain. So, anyway, when you get those results, _if _things are bad, and I'm telling you, they aren't, I conducted my own examination, you're fine," he teased salaciously. "Seriously though, are you going to…shove me away? Freak out? Either completely avoid me, or tell me that 'we're fine' and answer me in stunted one-word answers _effectively_ avoiding me, but while in my presence?"

"I don't know what I'll do," she answered with sadness. "I don't _want_ to push you away, right now I think I'll go nuts if I'm on my own…sorry, that sounds painfully like I'm using you."

"It's fine," he answered affectlessly.

"It's not _fine,_" she answered. "I like how it feels to be…known? I don't even know how to describe it. I moved to the west coast, and…I haven't successfully made any real connections. I mean, Paul and I spent a lot of time together, but we knew…relatively little about each other. Sad thing is, Rachel's right. I have no friends and I do not have much fun. The painful reality is…that if something happens to me, I won't have friends waiting for me with dinner for Rachel or to take care of her when I'm not able. Wilson won't be…popping by to take her out, my sister's on the other side of the country. Mom's gone. I don't associate with people at work any more often than I absolutely must. In fact, I don't know if I could list five of my closest associate's first names. I've taken all of the old 'ice-queen' jokes to a new level."

House looked at her with sadness, with clear empathy for the sense of loneliness she felt, particularly the sense of being entirely alone, but surrounded by people. "Probably because of me. Because of what happened between us."

Cuddy tilted her head, appearing confused, "House, I wonder if I ever even let _you_ in, if we ever let each other in… We were so concerned with self-preservation, and why wouldn't we have been? We were both reacting to what we knew of each other. Wow, going down that path is... Anyway, we can spend a lot of time pointing fingers, and I'm going to get mad at you for what you did to me, and you are going to get mad at me for what I did to you."

"I know," he answered somberly.

"Right now…you are the only ally I have. You know what really terrifies me? If this is like Mom's cancer, I'll be dead within six months."

She could hear him breathe as he absorbed the information. She continued, "What's truly terrifying, beyond that, is what am I going to do about Rachel? I'll have to move near Julia's, and then if I die…she'll have to start over with them. Before I die, she's gonna feel like she has to take care of me and she's only twelve. She could be…abandoned all over again before she's thirteen."

"Dying and abandoning are completely different actions."

"Are they?" she asked sadly. "Will they be different to her? Practically speaking?"

"Yea," he answered, nodding definitively. "They're different because of how she will perceive them. She'll know you didn't go willingly. Let me go home with you. Discussions of you and me aside. I'm not…expecting sex or love. I'll be the friend you're missing. I'll be enough of a jerk that you won't feel too pitied, I can make you laugh on occasion, and you know I'm stubborn enough to take care of you until the end. Even if we don't want to talk about the past, it can be my opportunity to right some of the wrongs, payback the job you gave me…and helped me to keep…"

"And how do I pay you back…for the hurt I caused you?"

"You can let me do this. Tell me, today, that you're OK with this. Because…I think that for now…you will tell me the truth."

"What are you implying that I've lied about?" she asked suspiciously.

"You just concentrated on the wrong part of the discussion."

"No…you knew what you were saying. You always _know _what you are saying."

"For now, concentrate on my offer. Promise me, if you're sick…we get off this boat, and I follow you home. You'll let me stay with you until you're better. I'll have a place to stay, you'll have the help you need."

"House…" she said hesitantly.

"You don't trust me?"

"It isn't that…at all"

"Then, why not? Besides, this is all a completely bullshit theoretical, so why hesitate?"

"OK," she said.

"I'll be nice to Rachel, I really will."

She laughed, "I didn't doubt that for some reason…"

"Good. We've agreed. You can't just ditch me under guise of martyrdom."

"Fine…yes."

They returned to his room and she sat on a chair, nervously kicking her leg. "Want something to calm you down?" he asked.

"No," she answered evenly.

"I thought the new and improved 'relaxed Cuddy' was…"

"I put 'relaxed Cuddy' down for a nap, and let 'panicky, nervous Cuddy' out to play for a while," she replied with a threatening glower.

"Fair enough!" he answered.

They sat and waited over two of the most uncomfortably tense hours in their history. House clicked through channels on the TV for a moment, but otherwise they sat largely in silence. When it was finally time, Cuddy got her cell phone, powered it up, realized there was no signal, and dropped her head into her hands. "Maybe it's best if I wait to get the results until after I get back home," she said, her voice defeated.

"Hell no!" House practically yelled. "We aren't going to sit around in this fucked up limbo. Once you have answers you can find solutions, make plans. Dealing in this type of theoretical doesn't help anyone, not to mention that I think if you have to wait any longer you are going to kill me the second I say something stupid…and we both know I won't go too long without saying something that irritates you!"

He picked her up from the chair, standing her on her own feet, and told her to follow him. He used his key card to sneak into one of the offices that was still unoccupied for the day. He pointed at the phone, and said, calmly, "Call."

He waited for the argument to come, for her to protest the unauthorized use of someone else's office and equipment, but much to his surprise, she sat down at the desk and began to dial. She asked for the appropriate person, and then agreed to be kept on hold. House hated the tension, but leaned down and said, "When I'm right, you're gonna feel really stupid for worrying."

She tried to smile at him, her facial expression inflexible with worry, and her attempt failing miserably. "Yes!" she finally said into the phone when someone answered, providing enough personal information for the person on the other end to validate her identity. Her elbow on the desk, her head propped in the extended fingers of her hand, she listened. Watching her for any body language or spoken words that may make the results clear, he waited as patiently as he could. Then there was a knock at the door. He turned to find an irate, very administrative, looking woman on the other side.

She was physically formidable, and House swallowed as he opened the door. "We're doctors. Medical emergency, we were told we could use this phone."

"No one…would tell you that," the woman asked from the other side. "Because, had you actually _asked_ anyone, you'd know that there is a phone for guests with emergencies, so clearly you did not ask. I'm getting security," the woman said as she entered the office next to her own.

"Cuddy, we have to hurry," House said, turning toward her and seeing her head was still down, but the phone was back in place.

She quickly got up and walked past him, and went to the next office to talk to the woman who was calling security. House sat with quiet admiration as he watched Cuddy explain to the woman why it was unnecessary to call security, and the woman actually seemed to listen to Cuddy, nodding and gesturing for them to leave the area.

Cuddy walked swiftly out into the hall, and House followed, "So?" he asked, and quickly determined by her lack of answer that he was wrong, that the news _was_ bad. His heart sank as he watched her gesture for him to hurry up, to catch up with her. When he did, she dragged him into the vending alcove, stood him directly in front of her, her hands on his forearms and said, "Lipoma."

He looked to the side, raised an eyebrow and looked back, encountering a very happy grin from her, "That's it? You're fine?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head. "I can have them removed if they continue to grow, or if they bother me...but, completely benign."

"No way!"

"You were _so _certain it was nothing, were you?" she taunted.

"I was!" he said, trying to appear poised.

"Liar," she accused jokingly.

"Alright, so I was a _little_ worried. But…now I get to find out what you're going to do with me now that you know you're going to be around for a while. Which is actually a much more frightening prospect than dealing with me for the next six months!"

"Or what you're going to do with me…" she suggested, and by his smirk could tell he was equally uncertain about how they should continue.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Does it…have to change?" she asked.

"You want me to come home with you and help you with chemo when you don't have cancer?"

"No, smartass," she answered, "Do we have to stop enjoying the _honeymoon_? I'm game."

"Really?" he asked skeptically, "You still want to…hang out?"

"House…life sucks, for the most part. I love my daughter…she's a good thing…but everything else…sucks. I think…if I was able to have fun…and I was _that_ worried, we could…still have fun when I'm not that worried."

"Yea," he answered, nodding.

"You said your life sucked too, you were very clear about that. The other night, when you were thinking about it, you looked completely miserable! Let's try to enjoy our time together. Let's end our stupid patterns. If we liked each other when I was dying…can't we like each other now?"

"I dunno," he answered with a very honest expression.

"We can still make the past up to each other without one of us dying," Cuddy stated.

"It does seems less dramatic that way."

"If you want out…I understand," she said, trying to mask a hint of sadness.

"No…if _you_ want out!" he responded.

"I don't," she smiled and lifted on her tiptoes placing one kiss, and then several subsequent kisses on his lips, but he backed away a little. "Sorry," she responded, "I must have misread."

She tried to salvage her dignity with a smile before she tried to leave. "You didn't misread," he responded, pushing her against the vending machine and kissing her. When he pulled back he said, "I'm...really glad you aren't going to die. I was just surprised. I was positive that you would run if you were OK. Thought…maybe you'd come back close to the end of the trip…try to talk things out before our inevitable parting…again. So I was right about the whole you being fine thing…wrong about the running."

"Guess I can still surprise you," she responded. "I didn't sleep though, and I am _really_ tired. Can we go take a nap, or do you want me to go sleep in my room and we can meet up later?"

"We can go to my room…" he said suspiciously.

"I've slept next to you the last two nights, a few hours ago we were naked and sweaty…and now this is uncomfortable?" she asked.

"A little," he answered.

"OK, I'll go to my room, and if you want to come join me, you can."

He grabbed her arm before she left, "My room's more comfortable."

"Agreed, but I don't want to trap you. This is a different outcome than sickness and death."

"That's…an honest answer, isn't it?"

"Yea," she said, shaking her head. "I want to have fun, enjoy the company, I don't want to play the _stupid_ games anymore, I just want to play the _fun_ games. How often did we have fun? When we worked together…when we dated… You were brooding or I was angry and we spent more time navigating around each other than enjoying anything."

"Who are you? Are you going to suck the life of me in my sleep?" he asked.

She simply raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

"OK, I misworded that…" he continued.

She smirked and waited.

"You go ahead and suck the life out of me anytime you…"

"I get it," she responded with a giggle. "For now, I really do need a little nap. An hour or two, I would like it if you'd join me."

"Are we still…having sex, or is that off the table now that we know you're living?"

"That seems stupid," she countered.

"It sounds like you. It sounds like a _you_ rule."

"It does _not_! Why would I make that rule?"

"Because…I don't know. I didn't say it was a _good_ rule, or a _logical_ rule. I said it was a _you_ rule."

"It's not a _me_ rule. Sex sounds like part of the fun part of…having fun. I realize that was redundant…I just felt it needed said," she answered. "If you don't want to, that's fine. If we both want to, then we should."

"Why would I not want to?" he asked incredulously.

"Are we arguing about whether or not we can have sex when we both still want to have sex?" she asked.

"You're right. Stupid argument."

"Good," she answered

"What are your other rules?"

"Why do you so desperately want me to make rules?"

"Because you operate in a world largely constructed by them? Because whether or not you say them, you still have them?"

"I want us to try not to bring out the worst in each other. That's what I want. I think that we should both be open to trying things the other wants to do, but if we really don't want to something, then we should say so. We can find ways for us to both have fun. Let's...do whatever the Blackburn's wanted to do."

"I…accept your rules, even if they're barely defined and easily leave either of us set up for disappointment."

"Then we'll have to try to agree on things as they come up, House. We _are_ adults. We're both capable of compromise and negotiation. Let's try to act like adults when it comes to making decisions."

"So you really still want to hang out? Even though you aren't dying?" he clarified.

"House, I am. It was this scare this time, and next time it will be something else. We will both be dead before we even know what happened."

"The 'I'm just glad to be alive' thing…doesn't last."

"It's not that. Look at the truth. There is limited time left. I can choose to sit in my bedroom and watch while Rachel…hopefully…finds a wonderful life, and give up on my own. Or I can try to have one too. I'm not asking you to promise me a future, or a fulfilling life, I'm saying, let's have fun while we can. I want to have fun, so have it with me. We still have two weeks."

He nodded before they began to walk to his room. "What happens at the end of two weeks?" House asked.

"We'll decide that closer to the time. Now that I'm not dying, you might start to hate me by morning."

"Now that you're not dying _you_ might start to hate me by the time we get to my room."

"As frustrated and angry and…furious…as I've been with you…over and over again…I don't hate you. I don't think I _can_ hate you."

"Oh _you've_ hated me. I'll accept that you don't now, but you have."

"It feels pretty damn good to be with someone…real. You're a lot things, House, but you're definitely real."

When they got to House's room, Cuddy pulled back the covers on the bed and pulled off her clothes down to her bra and panties. House watched as she disrobed, surprised that she suddenly seemed so much more comfortable with her body, since she knew it wasn't betraying her. Her entire person seemed different, seemed to exude more of the confidence he had always known. "You coming?" she said as she lay down, but he just stared at her with a blank look on his face. "You want me to put a shirt on?" she asked quickly standing to find one of his shirts.

"No way," he grumbled as he moved to her side and pulled her to him. He nudged her face with his until she looked up.

He hesitated to kiss her, waiting for her to make a move. "What's with the uncertainty?" Cuddy asked with a cautious grin.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I don't wanna…ya know."

"No…you lost me…"

"Does it feel different?" he asked.

"Yea…it does a bit," she answered. "Do you want me to go?"

"It's always going to be like this with us, isn't it? Each wondering if the other one secretly wants them to leave."

"I _don't_ want to leave," she said, vulnerably.

"I don't want you to leave."

"So how do we avoid having this conversation every ten minutes…or at least thinking about this conversation every ten minutes?"

"If you want to go, just tell me, same for me."

"OK," she answered, "If we need a quick break, or we want to break it off entirely, we just say so."

She tried to hide a yawn and he sat down in the bed pulling her to him. They shared a lazy kiss, the type of kiss more often shared by comfortable lovers than uncertain ones. When her hand moved to his hip, in a move that he assumed would turn sexual, he pulled her closer, removing her hand from its place and kissing her fingers. "Go ahead and sleep, I can't have you yawning all over me," he teased.

She smiled, settling at first a slight distance away from him. "Fuck it," she said, and he turned to see what she was talking about.

She moved right next to him, her body lining his, her arm wrapping tightly around him. Her cheek was against his chest, her hair covering his arm and shoulder, and she said, "Thank you for being there, for being so willing to help me if everything went wrong."

He tightened his arm and hummed his understanding. Within a few minutes, she fell asleep, her fingertips pressed possessively against his side. He smiled as he tried to remember the last time he had a woman sleep against him like that, strangely, she was the last one. He slept next to his previous girlfriend, but the two were far less than affectionate and certainly weren't the type to linger around each other any more than necessary. As uncomfortable as it should have made him, Cuddy felt undeniably wonderful at his side and he decided to try not to question it, and enjoy it while it lasted.


	10. Remembering

**A/N**-_thanks to all of the readers and reviewers since the last: justlobe, partypantscuddy, dmarchl21, Abby, IHeartHouseCuddy, IWuvHouse, HuddyGirl, Alex, ClareBear14, lenasti16, JLCH, OldSFfan, housebound, Josam, Truth, Alltheloveinthew, jaybe61, Suzieqlondon, Boo's House, touchatoucha7, Bakerstreet Blues, LoveMyHouse, yahnis14, Ar, PaulaAbdulChica2007 and Anon Guests._

_This week, I'm really trying to get 4 updates out._

* * *

_-Day 4-Tuesday Evening-_

House enjoyed waking up much more than he used to in years past, because the very first and most urgent sensation was no longer pain. After his successful treatments, when the pain dimmed to a mild irritant, he still would wake up and instinctively grab his thigh, preparing for the moments when the pain would become completely clear to him. There would always be times when he would find his hand moving unnecessarily toward his thigh.

When he woke up after his nap, it wasn't just an absence of pain he felt, it was the enticements of pleasure when he found Cuddy licking and sucking him to alertness. She backed away and smirked before she asked, in a soft, raspy voice, "Is this OK?"

He shook his head, slightly, confused that she could even ask that question in jest, and realizing that, even if it _wasn't _OK, he would have _said_ it was OK. For some reason, her asking him that question almost made him finish immediately, and he urgently tried to redirect his thoughts so he could enjoy her attention for a while before it was over. He placed his fingers against her jaw line, hoping she was going to continue.

While they were together, they seldom had the time to wake up and have sex for a couple of hours during daylight. There were jobs, responsibilities and a child that needed looked after. There was also, often, a fight just waiting for them. So, years later, they enjoyed their 'honeymoon', the simplicity of their time together without the complications of everyday life.

After the day's intimacy, and additional sleeping, they finally climbed out of bed around two the following morning, ready to have fun while the ship was silent. They were hungry, and food from a vending machine seemed a ridiculous substitute for an actual meal, so they helped themselves to the kitchen.

Cuddy was chopping fruit while House picked through the available items in the pantry and walk-in to make something for them. He returned with his arms full of food, which he dropped on the stainless steel prep table next to her. "At Wilson's funeral," House began, "what were you going to say to me?"

Cuddy stopped chopping, dropping the tip of the knife down on the cutting board while still holding the handle loosely in her fingers. "Ya know…" she began, pausing as she wondered at the question, "I honestly don't know." She laughed sadly and continued to think, still paused in her work. "When I woke up that morning, the thought occurred to me that you could be there. I mean I got the package in the mail…I knew instantly that you were alive. By the way, thank god you sent that, or I would have probably had some sort of cardiac event when I saw you at the funeral. I realized it was…humanly possible for you to show…but I _never_ really thought you _would_. Some people from Plainsboro called me when you took Wilson to the hospital…no attempt to hide who you were, limping through the main doors with a pilfered wheel chair and your deteriorating best friend in complete 'last stand' fashion. The funny thing was…it wasn't that they were warning me…they actually seemed to assume that I would be available to do something about it…that I'd drop everything in my life at the time and return to make sure everything was OK at the hospital."

"Problem with House…call Cuddy," House said, explaining the prevailing belief of many people from the days of their professional association. "Makes sense to most."

"Yea," she agreed. "And there you were…and at first I felt…so much anger. Not just the anger that I had toward you, and there was _plenty _of that, believe me, but all of the anger I had about everything that _ever_ went wrong since we started working together. I was so infuriated, and…I wanted to convey that. I knew you were there…before you even walked through the door, I could feel you. So I sensed all of the anger and rage bubbling up in me, and then…I saw your face. Defeated. Lonely. Sad. You looked…pounded down until there was really nothing left. I couldn't feel angry any more."

"You stopped being angry with me then?"

"It came back," she answered with a somber chuckle. "I saw you looking like that and I felt…so bad for you. I never stopped…hating it when you were hurt. I know it doesn't make sense with so much of our history. You and I…were never willing to really accept each other or do the things we could have done to make each other happy, but still hated to see each other unhappy. So fucked up. I was walking up to you to take out all of my anger, and found myself continuing toward you because I wanted to make you feel better…and then you were gone. Watching you get arrested…definitely not one of my fondest memories. We were, literally, a few feet apart and then you were gone forever. Or so I thought."

He nodded, leaning idly as she spoke. "You know," she said, furrowing her brow, "in our own way, we have always really loved each other. Maybe too much to ever really let go so we could move on to something else. I guess I wasn't all that surprised that you'd be willing to help me when I was sick because…that's you. It's us…at each other's throats and yet, there with a hand to pull the other from the abyss. In some ways, finding a way to make us work…would be solving the greatest puzzle of all."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

"No," she laughed. "I just want us to have fun. No challenges."

"You never looked me up in prison. Sent a letter, tried to find me later…"

"Neither did you."

"_You_ were in prison," he teased.

She shook her head with a smirk, "No. You didn't try to find me…contact me."

"At one point, I'm pretty sure there was a PFA that was out there, and our names were both on it. Contacting you was illegal."

"If you really wanted to contact me, an order of the court wouldn't have stopped you."

"I…thought it was for the best," he responded, looking away.

"So did I," she nodded her agreement. "Didn't stop me from looking you up once in a while though."

He looked up and was greeted by her guilty smile. "Really?" he asked, as surprised as she was embarrassed.

"Really," she answered. "I started out saying it was because I needed to keep tabs on you…for our safety…but…it was curiosity. By the way…that website…is that really you?"

"Yea," he nodded, "really great way to make some money. Sort of took one of Kutner's ideas and tweaked it a bit. It helps to supplement my income nicely. There are a lot of very lazy, very wealthy, med students these days."

"I thought the writing seemed like yours. Word choices, phraseology…the regular inclusion of the terms 'idiot' and 'moron' in a diagnostic context."

"I could see why you _may _think that _could_ be me," he answered, smirking.

He took a piece of a strawberry and ate it, grabbing another and holding it out for her between his thumb and forefinger. He expected her to push away his hand, or ignore it, and get her own food, but she tilted her head and ate the strawberry exactly as he offered it. "Guess you did relax a little," he said.

"About what?" she asked when she finished chewing.

"You never used to take any food I offered from my hand, or even from my fork."

"Of course I did."

"No, you didn't," he shook his head. "You'd take the fork from my hand, and then you'd eat it."

She thought over what he said, realizing that he was probably right, although she never realized it at the time. When she looked at him, she saw the look of sadness that always made her cringe, as she suspected that his mind was wandering to thoughts of Wilson's death, and imprisonment, and their dysfunction. She dropped the knife on the counter and turned around to hug him, circling her arms tightly around his waist and waiting patiently while his arms found a comfortable place to rest on her.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Just felt like…hugging you," she said, without parting or loosening her grip.

He hoisted her onto a clean section of the counter, drawing her into a slow, deep kiss while his hands, one on her face, and one on the small of her back, soaked in the feeling of her, the heat of her body. She felt her body respond immediately in earnest, and her mind eagerly considered the possibility of sex right there on the prep table. She reached for her shirt to remove it, and he took her wrists, and pinned her hands to his chest while he placed small pecks along her chin and jaw back to her ear and whispering, "I'm hungry…for dinner."

He chuckled while she sighed, and he said, "This kitchen's probably going to start filling up soon with all of the early morning prep people, so if we want something to eat, we better get moving…or we could stay here and let the kitchen staff catch us screwing on their table and then watch you try to convince _them_ not to call security."

They finished preparing their food, flirting blatantly in a way that they rarely felt comfortable with for long, but it seemed completely natural that night. They finished making the meal, cleaning up, and gathering the finished components to take to their room. They had a picnic on the bed, food containers spread out on a towel, and chatted about old times. It was their first big exploration of the past since meeting again, a slope they ventured toward because they were talking about Wilson, who only existed in the past. At first they talked about Wilson's wives and pranks, competitions and jealousies, drunken nights and rooming together. They avoided the unpleasant memories at every turn, in favor of remembering a few times of friendship.

They were on their second bottle of wine, the food cast aside, both stretched out on the bed, leaning against each other. They were sharing touches of arms and hands, legs sliding occasionally against each other, becoming familiar in a very unfamiliar way. They savored each touch and seemed to unspokenly agree that the moment wasn't sexual. She leaned her head back and he was chuckling at the memories when talk turned to a late night the three of them shared.

* * *

_-Princeton, Spring 2006-_

_It was after a hospital benefit. House was supposed to attend, but never showed up. Cuddy and Wilson went out after the fundraiser, he offered to drive her home so she could enjoy a few drinks to celebrate a very successful evening. Wilson texted a picture of Cuddy getting into his car to House, with a simple message, 'Guess who I'm taking home?'_

_Wilson waited for a call or a text, but received nothing back, assuming that House was probably drunk on his sofa at his apartment. Wilson stopped at the men's room, and Cuddy sat down at the bar, tired after a long day, when she heard a familiar voice behind her place her order. She turned slowly, "I can't believe you have the nerve to show up here after you completely skipped a required…"_

_Cuddy stopped mid-admonishment and stared, because next to her was House, wearing a tie and a button down shirt. She was speechless. He looked at the stool next to her, "Is this taken?" House asked, "I'm required to be here for my work and I need to make sure my boss sees me schmoozing."_

"_You are very late and in the wrong location," she replied as he smirked, unable to completely mask his admiration for her appearance._

"_You look amazing," he mumbled, in a moment of complete honesty, just as Wilson returned._

_The three drank and laughed that night more than most nights, Wilson taunting House for his sudden appearance post-text and wondering how he figured out where they would be, House and Cuddy sharing a few stares that lingered too much as they enjoyed moments of happiness. House's tie was soon loosened, the top buttons of his shirt open, and Cuddy enjoyed how handsome he looked as he made the outfit look more fitting to him so effortlessly. By the end of the night they were all too inebriated to drive, and they shared a taxi home. _

_House tipped the driver to make sure he took Wilson home first, and after his friend got out, he and Cuddy shared uncomfortable silence for a moment. They were only minutes away from his apartment when she said, with astonishment in her voice, "I had a really…really…good time tonight!"_

"_Me too," he seconded, looking out the window. _

"_We should try to do this again…more often," she suggested, too intoxicated to have her filter fully in place._

"_You-and-I, or you-and-I-and-Wilson?" House asked._

_Cuddy hesitated, thinking her options through as best as she could in her condition. She offered a crooked smile and finally said, "Either…maybe…both."_

_The back of the taxi felt very small, their bodies in close proximity in a tight space, their eyes meeting occasionally and then finally meeting and holding. She wondered if she should just try, if she should kiss him right then in the back of the taxi. They could blame the alcohol and the late hour, see how the kiss felt, see if things progressed, and maybe one would invite the other into their home, and if they got that far, probably the invitation would extend to the bedroom. _

_Cuddy wondered how they'd handle it, if the night went that way. Would one leave the other in a panic or would they stay the night? The next day, would House avoid her entirely at work, would he be confrontational, or would he be the subtle, trustworthy man she knew he sometimes could be with her. The thought crossed her mind that everything could go so horribly wrong or so wonderfully right._

_He looked at the softness of her lips, the flowing curves of her dress and the look in her eye that let him know that if he just could ask, she would come home with him. He knew they'd probably have an amazing encounter, with luck, two or three encounters that night. He still remembered the way she sounded and felt from years earlier and wondered what she'd learned over those years, and how she may have changed. Then he wondered if she'd panic and run, or worse, what if she stayed and he wanted to run, but he was stuck with her there in his apartment. The taxi came to an abrupt stop, and he made a very quick decision, he kissed her cheek quickly, with barely enough contact to press his lips to her skin and said, "Thanks."_

_She watched him limp up his stairs to his apartment and disappear through the outer door._

* * *

_-Day 5-Wednesday, Predawn-_

"You really looked amazing that night," House commented.

"So did you," she answered. "Imagine if we could have just…taken a go at it that night. We could be sitting here with a family of our own, Rachel could have older siblings…not that you wanted kids, but…theoretically. Guess it wouldn't have worked."

"Probably not," he said somberly.

"We could have had these years together, with someone who we honestly have _real_ feelings for, and not some half-assed substitute."

"You think Paul was a half-assed substitute?" House asked.

"I think…everyone who isn't you is a half-assed substitute," she answered with certainty.

She could sense that he was entertaining the thought in his head, but the concept of ending their suffering years earlier only seemed frustrating after so much hurt had been exchanged between them, and they each willingly left the thoughts behind. What they kept with them, was the reminder that missed opportunities and inaction could have a permanent impact on their lives.

He looked relaxed there, in their bed, occasionally looking at her, and the ceiling and his glass. She leaned her elbow into his side a bit and said, "If I had a crush on you…not in the past, but…now…a little, tiny crush…would that change the rules of our arrangement?"

He grinned, only slightly, when she looked up at him, and he said, after a deep breath, "I suppose I could over look a 'little, tiny crush.'"

"How magnanimous," she responded. She sat up and faced him, her eyes flirting openly. "What if it were…to grow?"

"You mean…from a 'little, tiny crush' to a 'small crush'…or maybe even a 'moderate' one?"

"Yea, something like that…once stuff like that gets started, who knows what can happen from there," she said.

They both knew, the feelings they were obviously harboring were becoming more apparent each day.

"Things like that…can easily get out of control," he replied. "Feelings…are risky."

"Very risky," she answered. "This has all been a risk though, every step of the way. You and I are always about…risk."

The air was thick for a few moments, as they shared a look neither would relent. He leaned over to kiss her, just a press of his lips to hers, "Time to sleep, we have to be up in four hours for the next excursion."

She smiled at him, "What is it? Something you find sickeningly sweet…something canned and romantic?"

"I wouldn't say that, no. All I can say is, make sure 'adventurous Cuddy' is the one joining us tomorrow."


	11. Me Tarzan, You Jane

**A/N**-_thanks to all of the readers and reviewers since the last bit: lenasti16, JLCH, Alltheloveinthew, housebound, IHeartHouseCuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, IWuvHouse, Sue, Josam, justlobe, Abby, Alex, Little Greg, LoveMyHouse, HuddyGirl and all of the Guest reviewers.  
_

_OK...2 days in a row, definitely trying for tomorrow. If I don't make it in time for tomorrow, I'll definitely make it by Thursday._

**Disclaimer**-_this chapter includes adult content._

* * *

_-Day 5-Wednesday-Afternoon-_

Cuddy was rushing around the room, getting ready for their onshore excursion to Puerto Vallarta. She originally selected one of the dresses she bought on their last excursion, but when House chuckled at the thought of her doing whatever they were going to be doing in a dress, she quickly changed. She tried to find out what was on the itinerary, particularly after he insisted that she wear close-toed shoes, but he wasn't giving her any clues.

After heading to shore and boarding another bus, they were on their way into the jungle, and finally arrived at a hut in the center of a clearing. House waited for Cuddy to resist and she smiled, "Seriously?" she asked, "Zip lining?"

"Yea," he answered, "You gonna back out of this one? Remember…we've agreed to try to be open."

"Oh, no way, no way I'm backing out," she said happily.

"Hunh?"

"I tried this years ago, I absolutely loved it. I have always wanted to go again."

House looked at her with utter befuddlement. "I…am completely impressed."

"Have you ever done it?"

"Once, a _very_ long time ago," he answered. "I kind of figured you'd like it once I bargained for your participation, but really didn't expect you to show up ready to go!"

"Ooh," she said, "What could I have gotten from you if I would have held out?"

They left the bus and were standing in line. "I don't know," he said, "you should have played your hand better and you'd know."

She smiled, "Guess I'll have to think of something else to barter over."

They listened while one of the guides went through the instructions and helped them put on their safety harnesses and helmets before they made the first long ascent up the stairs to the starting platform. Getting to the top was a little more difficult than House wanted it to be, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder that he was able to make it to the top without a hard fought struggle. When they got to the top, the staff needed a volunteer, and Cuddy readily went to the front of the platform, hooked her carabiner on the zip line, and took off with one of the staff in tow in case she had any problems. When she hopped off at the end House saw her laughing while she chatted with the staff member at the bottom, thoroughly enjoying the first leg of their trip.

A few more people went before House had his turn to fly down the line, the sensation of rapid near weightlessness a pleasant counter to the strain of walking up so many stairs. When he got to the bottom Cuddy was waiting for him, barely able to contain a grin. He smirked at her, "What else don't I know about you?"

"Many, many things," she grinned. "You haven't been around to notice every little thing I do or think for a long time."

They were waiting in line, she was the next to go and he said, "I think you should tell me…at least one thing per day. Something that I don't know about you. Something interesting…or relevant."

"Oh really?" she replied. "And…you'll do the same thing?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

"So today's thing you didn't know about me, is that I like zip lining…what are you going to tell me?"

She moved up to the front position, waiting for her turn to go down the next line, a very long, and much steeper drop than the previous one. Just as she hopped up and clasped the carabiner on the line he said, "I saw your lecture in Atlanta."

The staff member who helped her up into position on the line gave her a good shove just as House made his statement, and she turned back over her shoulder, to see House's smug expression as she slid away to the next platform. When she dismounted, she was standing at the far platform, hands out to her sides, questioning his statement, and eager to hear the exact circumstances under which he came to see her lecture.

He could sense her anticipation and impatience in the way she stood, even though he couldn't really see her facial expression, so to tease her, just a little, he let the couple behind him ahead of him in line. Cuddy watched as the next two people descended, knowing House was tormenting her, seeing the way he waved in a discrete, southern-belle fashion. He went down next, wanting to make sure that his teasing remained fun and didn't move on to causing full irritation. When he got to the bottom, she was waiting, hands on her hips, "You actually _attended_ the lecture?"

"Yea," he answered, "I saw it. I sat in the auditorium. Heard you were in town and couldn't resist."

"Why were you in Atlanta?"

"Wilson and I were on our trip…that was right before things started to get bad. He stayed back at the hotel. He said he was convinced that you'd return with me. He seemed to think that somehow we'd…crash into each other again."

"I can't believe you _actually_ sat through the lecture."

"You're not _that _bad of a speaker," he jabbed.

She forced a scowl and retorted, "I _meant_, I can't believe you took such a huge risk. What if you'd been caught?"

"No one was looking for me there. The only one who would have recognized me was you. You wouldn't have called the cops. You'd _say_ you would, but then, curiosity would get you…plus…I think you have a soft spot for me."

She shrugged, "So then, why didn't you say something?"

"I bought you a drink…hotel bar, later that night."

"I always wondered who bought me that drink and then never approached me afterwards, never waved, or nodded."

"Me."

"If you were so certain that I wouldn't turn you in, why not make yourself known?"

"I was ninety-percent certain. That ten percent was…too much of a risk with Wilson deteriorating in a hotel room alone."

She nodded and they sensed the tenseness returning, so he redirected, "It was good though, I got to see you, fresh jerk off material for the shower."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Well, I'm guessing you're getting plenty of that during this cruise."

"Well, I'm hoping you'll take care of the inspiration, the fantasy, and the actual follow through for a while," he smirked.

"I think I can help with all three of those."

"You know that safety harness definitely shows off your ass in a new way. It's inspiring a whole new set of fantasies. See what you can do about smuggling it out of here when we're done."

"Fuck, I'm sure I look completely horrible in this," she grimaced.

"Seriously, it's working for me. I'm starting to think that you have the one ass that looks good in every single circumstance. I will personally make it my goal to verify that there isn't a single situation where your ass doesn't look amazing."

She giggled with disbelief while she approached the next launch point. She whispered to the man who was helping her and he nodded. She hopped up, this leg of the zip line even longer than the previous, and once she started moving, House watched while she kicked her legs forward and flipped upside-down, continuing down the line, heels-over-head, and making a taunting face. He burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all, as her thick ponytail hung down behind her helmet and her legs were crossed over head, like a fast moving, inverted yogi, and she seemed to not have a care in the entire world.

He went down immediately after her, right-side up, and when he got to the bottom he said, "What sort of head trauma led to this behavior?"

She giggled, "Don't you think this is fun?"

"Yea, absolutely," he answered, completely floored by the completeness of her levity.

* * *

When they were finished with their descent, they walked through a small shop filled with souvenirs, snacks and a locker room. Some of the members of the group changed to go swimming nearby, but they decided to stay behind and check out the immediate area on foot. Nearly everyone had left, and Cuddy extended a hand to him after she stood up. He took it and she led him outside. They didn't go far, uncertain of the terrain, or any indigenous dangers, so they kept the red flag at the shop in sight. House was talking about exploring new regions as a child when they moved following the career of his dad, until he was distracted by the sight before him. Cuddy was looking at a flower that was growing along a small stream, intrigued by its beauty. She was vibrant and alive since their zip lining, even more than she had been the previous few days, and she seemed to exude excitement. His mood shifted quickly and he crept up behind her. He stood her up in front of him, pressing his pelvis into her ass and wrapping his hands around her upper thighs. Her happiness, her levity, and the easy way that she smiled and seemed to be experiencing joy, made her seem all the more attractive, and he felt as if he wanted to capture some of it to keep eternally.

"Want you," he grumbled, his stomach fluttering with excitement when she reached back and ran a hand across his shoulder and the upper part of his chest before slinking around his neck. She gasped, and he loved that he could so easily flip the switch and convince her that what she wanted was him. He always underestimated the undercurrent of desire she had for him.

In an instant they were frantically groping and clawing, their foreplay unchoreographed and sloppy, but entirely arousing. She managed to say, "Out here?" through a series of gasps and moans and he just nodded.

He walked her a few feet away and positioned her so she was facing a tree. They struggled to remove enough clothing, her shirt and bra only partially off, simply pushed out of the way, her shorts and panties tossed aside on the ground. His pants were open, part way down his legs, so consumed with desire that only the basic preparations were made. He bent her forward, admiring the view, her physical near perfection in spite of age, and he was almost completely lost in her in every way. They were rough, unthinking, and when he reached in front of her to grasp a breast with one hand and press his other hand firmly over her wetness, dragging one finger through her folds, the pressure caused her to shatter. She groaned and gasped, but never called his name.

He continued, chasing his own release, when he saw her grasping at the tree with her small fingers, in a moment of weakness brought on by her orgasm, and he realized he gave her no time to recover. She didn't mind, she made no protest whatsoever, but her body was tired and weak and struggling to remain upright. She groaned in protest when he pulled out from her, still enjoying the sensations he was producing even in her still recovering state. He turned her around, wanting to see her face, wanting her to look him in the eye. He wanted to hear her call his name, because her previous orgasm, which passed without verbal acknowledgement of his presence, left him feeling empty. He needed to know that she was thinking about him and no one else, to know that it was important that _he_ was the one with her, and that they weren't just exchanging thoughtless favors.

He lifted her, pressing her back against the tree, keeping one of his hands behind her so the bark wouldn't rub her skin raw. She easily wrapped her legs around his hips, hoping he'd continue. After pressing her face into his shoulder he whispered, "Hey," and she didn't answer. He demanded, "Cuddy, look at me."

She shook her head at first, but then leaned her head back against the tree, looking him in the eye, knowing full well the connection he was trying to verify, knowing that he wanted to know that she was _definitely_ thinking of him. He saw the threat of tears in her eyes as the pain of separation and past mistakes bubbled beneath the surface of each of their minds. They kissed, allowing themselves to fully acknowledge the presence of each other, and the significance of their exchange. There couldn't be unthinking, meaningless sex between them once they recognized exactly what they were sharing.

When he saw that she understood, that she was present and completely with him, he pushed into her again, eyes locked as her hands grabbed handfuls of him in both pleasure and possession. Their every move, every sound, was purposeful, meaningful, as they enjoyed each other, and they felt what they knew was unspoken, undeniable affection. They came together, hard and furious and gasping each other's names as they both struggled to stay upright while their senses were preoccupied with physical and emotional ecstasy.

He leaned into her, the tree preventing their bodies from hitting the ground. They both realized the missing barrier, both physically and emotionally, but they also realized their complete disregard for their own safety when they ignored the need for a condom. Neither thought for a second that the choice was accidental, they didn't make mistakes like that and they both knew House had some with him. It was understood that if there was a chance of any danger, they'd warn the other one. There was no chance of pregnancy, he knew she'd never risk having an unwanted child, particularly at this stage of their lives, and even suspected that she'd had a hysterectomy from the tiny laparoscopic incision scars he'd seen on her abdomen, barely noticeable to anyone other than him. For both of them, this was a monumental display of trust, the belief that they could trust this one person in a way they didn't trust anyone else on the planet. Strangely, it was easier for them to trust each other with things like that, less easy to trust each other with matters of the heart.

When they parted, they remained near, lazily, with weak-limbed efforts redressing, and returning to the shop. They sat at a table in the corner, enjoying drinks and talking quietly while two of the people behind the counter snickered none-to-subtly at them. "Do you think they heard us?" Cuddy whispered.

"You scream like a banshee. People back on the boat heard us."

"If you say stuff like that, I won't have sex with you in the jungle anymore," she threatened lightly.

"I like how that makes it sound like we frequently have had sex in the jungle. Very Tarzan."

"Shut up," she said as she blushed.

"How do you go from behaving…the way you did…to innocently blushing?"

"It's me," she said. "You've always brought out the reckless abandon side of me better than anyone else…and now I'm in a place where no one knows me except you, so my inhibitions are lowered. But, beneath it all, I'm still the same cautious person. Don't tell anyone."

"We should stay here, build a home in the trees," he suggested.

"I'll send for Rachel," Cuddy teased, "she'll be thrilled to get rid of the burdens of modern technology and friends."

* * *

They walked through the cobblestone streets of Puerto Vallarta, joking and flirting and behaving much more like a couple on their honeymoon than the actual Blackburn's, who were, by that point, inhabiting different residences and filing papers to divorce. "You know," he said, while they toured the town, "We're behaving in a way that should make us nauseous. All this…doe-eyed crap. What's wrong with us?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

"I don't know," she answered, a little concerned with his sudden somber tone. "I'm not ready to change it."

"Me neither," he answered as they made their way back to the boat.

"I've never…been…like this. I've never had this…exact feeling."

"I'm sure middle school puppy love Cuddy felt like this."

She shook her head resolutely, "No. She didn't."

There was no tease or joke in her voice, and he could see it was important for him to understand. "It's different for me too, OK?"

She nodded. "I've never let my guard down long enough to feel this way," she said with equal emphasis on the importance that he understand her words and the feelings behind them. "And that probably makes me an idiot, because now I'm…completely vulnerable."

"Don't forget which one of us is the heartbreaker," he lashed out, in a moment that stunned her to sadness, and he felt the grip of disappointment as he realized he really didn't want to cause her any pain or dredge up any negativity. "And I won't forget which one of us fucks things up," he added.

He could see the appreciation in her eyes at his clarification. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm…really exposed here too. You can tell by the obvious panic setting in."

She nodded, and they both understood each other in some ways better than anyone else understood them. The fear of vulnerability, of emotional pain, was one of the things that defined so many of their relationships, that left them both with long strings of failed attempts at grown-up relationships.

They were speaking in a bustling section of the town, people all around them shopping, going about their daily activities, or sightseeing, but they were as alone on the street as they were in his room, or in the ship's kitchen in the middle of the night.

"Don't be afraid, you can trust me," she whispered.

"I'm not afraid," he scoffed with irritation.

"I am," she answered, capturing eye contact. "I'm _so_ afraid. That's why _not_ thinking was easier. But…we both know the 'not thinking' part of you and I…is done."

"So we're back to the way things were?" he asked.

"God no," she answered. "I still want to have fun, to not worry about details, to let loose. But…I just…can't _not_ feel…or _not_ think…when it comes to you. You felt what I felt earlier…you must have…"

There was concern in her voice again, that maybe she misunderstood and he wasn't as emotionally invested as she was. "I know," he said, softly, looking around as if he were wary of eavesdroppers. "I am…concerned. I don't want to this to all go to hell."

"I don't either," she said, "I am trusting you entirely. Please, trust me. If we can…let something happen…without clinging to our bad expectations…"

"I trust you," he answered.

The tone of his voice, his demeanor, and she knew, he truly did trust her with everything. She trusted him with everything. They had given each other bits and pieces of themselves many times over the years, but never before with such unreserved totality.


	12. Practical Applications of Trust

**A/N**-_thanks to all readers and reviewers since the last piece: housebound, lenasti16, Alltheloveinthew, partypantscuddy, Josam, JLCH, IHeartHouseCuddy, touchatoucha7, Lapiz Silkwood, justlobe, jkarr, OldSFfan, Melo03, Zaydaksy, IWuvHouse, Bakerstreet Blues, southpaw2, ClareBear14, CaptainK8, Mon Fogel, Abby, HuddyGirl, dmarchl, Alex and all of the Guest Reviewers._

* * *

_-Day 6-Thursday-Evening-_

After their zip lining adventure, they hid in his room for the remainder of the day, and most of the next day, ignoring the outside world in exchange for sleep and intimacy. Late Thursday, they emerged to eat in one of the restaurants on board, both refraining from deep conversation since they were slightly dazed.

They snuck down to the hot tub right after it closed, and slid into the warm water to relax. Cuddy floated on the surface of the water for a while, and when she finally settled back down, she ran her hand along House's forearm and slid it down over his wrist toward his hand. He was leaning back, eyes closed, and noticed that she stopped over his wrist. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"Even you aren't _that _stupid," House answered, immediately on the defensive.

She sighed, leaning down into the water and putting her head back, relaxing as she continued to trace the toughened lines of scars running down his left wrist that she had noticed before, but was waiting for the right moment to discuss. She clearly _wasn't_ that stupid, she could guess what happened, but she waited to see if he was going to shut her out, or let her in enough to talk about the exact circumstances surrounding the incident.

He rubbed his forehead and pushed his hair back with his right hand, offering an apologetic look as he reminded himself that he trusted her. "Jail…second tour."

She nodded as she lifted his wrist from the water and looked at the obviously self-inflicted wounds. He knew she had more questions, but she refused to verbalize them, knowing that, at some point, he'd tell her whatever he was willing to share with her. "You can't get enough Vicodin to overdose with when you can't even get enough to keep up with your habit. Given my tolerance at that time, who knows how much it would have actually taken to be successful. CO's would have seen any attempts at hanging too quickly," he was speaking clinically, no emotion in his voice, although she could hear the pain anyway, and see it in him as clearly as she could see the physical manifestations of that pain.

Her fingers traced the jaggedness of the cuts, not at all even or precise, carved hurriedly, and clearly made with an object that wasn't sharp enough. He could sense her question by the way her fingers moved over him. "They don't hand out scalpels to prisoners just in case," he said gravely.

"You were upset…because of Wilson?" Cuddy asked, still holding onto his arm, but allowing it to sink under the water.

She was shocked that he didn't pull away.

He scoffed, "Sure. Wilson."

"Why do you say it like that?"

He sat fully upright, "Of course I was hurt about Wilson. Obviously. He was…all I had left. There was, literally, no one else. I made my decision…to stick with him…because it was important…but that decision cut me off from every other person I had ever known. When he was close to death, when he actually got to the point where he begged me to take him to the hospital, because none of the drugs I had left were helping, and even I was running out, I knew it was the end. Then he was gone. I never felt as completely alone as I was then. I saw you…at the funeral…and thought maybe for a moment that you'd feel something for me, or at least for my circumstance. Then I hated myself for hoping you would. I fucking…hate pity."

Cuddy looked at him with the utmost affection. "You looked…god, House, I would have talked to you. I would have been there for you. When I saw you, I wanted to help."

"And then you were gone…or more accurately…I was handcuffed and taken."

"You could have tried to find me after prison. I wasn't hard to locate. My number was published…any search of my name would have shown you where I worked…an email, telephone, address…I wasn't hiding."

"I didn't know how you'd react. I didn't know you'd be like _this_," he answered. "And even if you were, even if I thought that I might actually have the remotest shot of making you happy without completely destroying myself, what would I have said? _Hey Baby, look, I know I've been in jail a couple of times and I have a wicked drug problem. I'm erratic and unpredictable and unprofessional…I failed to keep you as a young med student…or as a middle-aged professional…so now that I'm getting a lot older, and I have a much shittier job…wanna fuck_?"

She shrugged, "Admittedly, your pickup line could use some work," she said, adding some levity to their discussion.

He actually near-chuckled for a moment, surprised by her response. "Honestly though, if I would have appeared in your office…what would you have done?"

"I wish I could answer that question honestly. Because I don't know. Probably would have hugged you and screamed at you alternatingly…depended on the day…on the circumstance…"

He nodded. "I was still…pretty angry with you, and ashamed. Embarrassed. And…still in love, a little, I guess."

"I had…all of those feelings too," she answered.

"What in the hell did _you_ feel embarrassed for?"

"Because I should have treated you more kindly. Because I made the same mistake that so many people make…and I assumed you didn't have feelings. I wish I didn't treat you that way. I wish you didn't retaliate in the ways that you did. I don't think I ever really trusted another guy after what happened between us. Now we've come full circle, and you seem to be the only one I can trust, which is probably somehow interwoven with the definition of insanity. I went out and found…one of the dumbest, most innocuous guys to date. Because I was certain I wouldn't get hurt. Then, ironically…I got hurt anyway."

"Repeat of Lucas," House said.

"No…this guy was really dumb. Lucas had some observational skills, some ability to plot and plan. I don't know if Paul could have figured his way out of an open box. So much easier to fall in love with the brilliant ones. The ones that you can sit…and listen to for hours. So," she continued, "I don't know what I would have done if you would have appeared in my office, but I felt embarrassed, ashamed and angry, and utterly abandoned…even though I was the one who ended it. Someone who had been there…for what seemed like forever…was gone."

He nodded again. "I'm sorry for the part I played in this," she said, tracing his wrist again.

"I didn't _blame_ you," he warned.

She responded, in a very steady voice, steeped in compassion, "I know you didn't blame me. But I contributed to your pain as much as you did to mine."

She thought he was going to argue, to fight either that he was hurt, or that he had hurt her. She thought he was going to lock down or lash out, depending on how far he felt pushed. She just needed to say one more thing before he closed the subject. She didn't think it through, it was a thought that seemed to materialized without her permission, "I'm not looking for an excuse to push you away anymore."

That admission stunned them both. Cuddy knew the truth in what she said, but her own words were a revelation to her as much as to him. He was thinking of fleeing, moments before, but those words were like certified proof that things between them truly had changed.

"You mean that," he said, a statement, not a question.

"I do," she nodded. She picked up his hand again, holding the palm against her cheek. "I don't want you to end up in that place, emotionally, ever again," she said, tears barely contained by her eyes as she thought of his pain.

"Don't worry, it seems like no matter what I do, my fucking body just won't die," he said, trying to make light of the serious subject.

She looked crushed, her spirit stomped down, and he mumbled, "It was a joke."

"I know," she said, trying to mask the sadness on her face. "But this isn't a joke. What can we do to make sure it doesn't happen again? I never want you to feel like that."

"Anything I say will sound like manipulation," he answered.

"Your happiness is not solely tied to me…or any one person."

"I just don't want us to end as enemies."

"What if…we agree to respect each other enough not to let it end like that. Maybe consider the possibility of not letting it end at all?"

She held her breath, she was so nervous for his response, because she really didn't know what it was going to be when it came. He looked down into the water, "My third night in jail I decided I wanted to die. I hated everything I'd become, I mourned everything I lost, I realized there was nothing left but me and my leg and pain. I stole a shiv from my cellmate. I remember passing out…right before I thought it was over. I felt…almost happy. I thought…it was finally going to be the end. There was no regret. No visions of times gone by, no life passing before my eyes. I woke up in the hospital. The CO sent to keep an eye on me, told me that my cellmate would have let me die…except he was pissed that I stole his shit and he wanted me to live to pay for it. CO's didn't do me any favors, because they were pissed that my attempt made them look bad. I went back to jail after I was discharged from the hospital. My roomie, and his friends, spent several weeks repeatedly beating the fuck out of me. It was fun. A few nights after I got out of the hospital for a broken collarbone and a few broken ribs, I decided that I was going to find a solution for my leg, or I was going to die. No more attempts that could fail, only sure things, medical guarantees that it would be over. Funny thing was, the next day, a couple of guys screwed up worse than I did…and my roomie had new people to torment. I shut the fuck up…tried to be as invisible as possible, just to get out of jail, so I could feel better or die. I was tired of hurting, of watching my back, of being targeted. That…was what happened when I played with death…again, and lived to tell about it. This…is the person you are considering trying to maintain a relationship with."

"Fuck, House, I had no idea all of that happened," Cuddy began, but stopped when he pulled himself from the hot tub. "What are you doing?"

He left. He got out of the hot tub, grabbed a towel, and left the room still soaking wet. Cuddy was crushed. They had been steadily building so much trust and it seemed, in an instant, it was gone. She started to panic. She wondered if he needed a break, or if that was it for them, she had no idea what direction all of this would take. She got out of the hot tub, grabbed her own towel, and went to her room. She hadn't been there in a few days. It was tidy and neat, and horribly empty. She showered, relaxed in her bed, and pondered her next move. Initially, she thought she should leave House alone, give him time to figure out whatever he needed to figure out. After almost two hours, she realized he probably wasn't really thinking things through, as much as using his own thoughts against him. She hated the vision she had, far from pleasant, imagining him in pain and alone yet again. But he didn't have to be alone.

She decided to go find him, stopping by the bar and casino to look for him before going to his room. She had his extra key card, but decided to knock. He came to the door and opened it, obviously stoned and sad, and started to roll his eyes in anticipation of whatever she was going to say. He had the door partially blocked with his body and she kissed the stubble at the end of his chin. He looked at her suspiciously and she leaned up and kissed his lips. "Don't be an ass. Move over and let me in," she said calmly.

He still had the door blocked, his mind looked slow, dim, but he eventually stepped back. "Easier to lecture me inside of the room than it is from the hall?"

"Everything you told me…doesn't change how I feel about you. It doesn't change my opinion of you. It doesn't change anything, except to give me a better understanding of where you've been. I still want the same thing. I want you. If it isn't what _you_ want, then you just need to tell me."

"Why?" he asked, still foggy. "You are one, fucked up bitch, to willingly walk back into this," he mumbled.

"Probably," she nodded, before walking out toward the small deck. She knew where his anger was coming from, and she understood and accepted his derision, even though it hurt her deeply. She watched the water and tiny waves skimming and slapping along the bottom of the boat, and tried to give him some time.

She eventually heard him in the doorway behind her, "Why?" he repeated.

"Because we know each other better than anyone else knows us. Because we understand each other better than anyone else understands us. Because we can overlook it when one of us treats the other one like shit, when they're _only_ trying to help."

He flinched at the last portion of her statement, "Look," he began.

"I'm not done," she answered. "We know who we _really _are. And face it, House. We have been in love…with varying intensities…for over 35 years. NOTHING…ever seems to change that. It's why we always find ourselves drawn to each other. Is it worth fighting?"

He pulled her by the arm to him. They stood on the balcony, listening to the sounds of the ship's engine and water, and he held her while she felt his indecision and hesitation slipping away. His hands ran along her back while he held her, realizing how difficult it probably was for her to come find him, and getting a sense of just how much she truly cared. He figured he probably would have gone to find her the next day, had she not come, or perhaps he wouldn't have at all, so he was relieved that she made the move.

"What happened to trusting me?" she asked.

"I still trust you. I want to protect you. From me."

"Stop that. I don't need that."

"My life sucked after you were gone. It's not something I like talking about," he answered. "You deserve so much better than me."

"You need to stop thinking that, because it's total bullshit."

After they stood in silence together for a few minutes, she stepped back, "I accept certain things when we're joking, or playing. But don't call me a bitch like _that _again. That wasn't joking or teasing. I didn't do anything to deserve that from you, and I think I've earned a little of your respect."

"You do deserve my respect…you…_have_ my respect. I'm sorry."

His apology seemed very genuine, and she could feel the truth that permeated his words. "When your head clears, you can decide if this is what you want too. Do you want me to stay or go until then?"

"I want you to stay. I'm not _that_ foggy," he said with a silly grin. "I want to try this. I want us to try…_us_…as in…beyond…the next few weeks."

"Great," she said, "we have an agreement."

* * *

Later, as they sat on his bed he said, "So, I feel my…little disclosure…counts toward today's secret exchange."

"Absolutely," Cuddy responded.

"How about you tell me about these?" he asked, lifting the bottom of her shirt and pointing to four, barely visible scars on her abdomen.

"How did you even see those? Did you break out the magnifying glass while I slept?"

"If you don't want to tell me…"

"No, I'll tell you. Partial hysterectomy. I was…actually recovering when I was in Atlanta. That was my first post surgical work trip."

"Cancer?" House asked with concern.

"No, I would have told you if it was. Just…aging. It was time."

"Are you OK?"

"House, that was a long time ago. It's not even…on the radar anymore."

"That's too bad. Must have been hard for you."

Cuddy tried to shrug it off as unimportant, but she knew he could see right through her. "At first it was a little difficult. Part of me…always thought maybe my time would come. Wasn't in the cards. I'm very lucky, I have Rachel and even on the worst days, when I swear I am going to completely lose it, I'm so happy I found her."

"Not suggesting that you don't love Rachel. I just know that was something you wanted, and realizing it wasn't going to happen had to have been difficult. I was able to fix my leg, we can't fix your baby problem."

"Ya know," she said introspectively, "Accepting that changed me. For the better. I'll admit to you, and you alone, because, to be honest, you are the only one who asked, it _was _really hard to accept. I really felt depressed for a bit. Felt inadequate, less than fully female…no jokes about ass size or hip shape or sex changes," she quipped, but his facial expression remained attentive and serious. She continued, "But when I accepted it…when I actually _accepted _it, I felt like I was able to really close that chapter of my life. I know it sounds strange."

"It makes sense. Forced resignation."

"Yea. And after I accepted it, I stopped feeling so inadequate. The sense of failure that I had, finally abated."

"I'm sorry we didn't do that when we could have," he answered after a spell of silence. "I could have helped you more. I should have helped you more."

"I…appreciate that. It worked out fine. You and I…didn't need any additional…layers to our dynamic!"

When he lit another joint, she took it from his hands and he smiled, "You are so much cooler than you were."

"This…is not a regular thing for me…" she said, pointing at the joint. "It's fun…for vacation. And so very _rarely_ once I'm home. Far, far, far away from anywhere that my child may be."

"Whew, that's a relief," he answered, "I'd go broke keeping you well supplied."

She smiled and shook her head. "That's one thing, House. If we are trying this…I'm sure we'll have a lot to figure out…but there's only one thing that's one-hundred percent nonnegotiable for me. Rachel. She's only twelve…she has to be my first priority. I don't want my daughter exposed to…drugs and that kind of stuff. Is that…going to be a problem?"

She looked worried again as she waited for his answer. "It's not a problem. She should be your first priority," he responded, with a soft expression, "I don't want her exposed to it either."

"Thanks," she answered.

"After all," he teased, "We'd hate for her to end up a hopeless stoner like you, sailing around the world with convicts and engaging in highly questionable behavior."

"That's _definitely_ me. Do you have any nonnegotiable terms?"

"I'm unwilling to accept a life of chastity."

"Reasonable," she answered through a stifled giggle.

"Then…anything else…I think we can figure out."


	13. Recovery

_**A/N**-Thanks to all readers, and reviewers since the last bit: JLCH, Boo's House, Mon Fogel, OldSfFan, Tori, Alltheloveinthew, jkarr, Bakerstreet Blues, Josam, LapizSilkwood, Suzieqlondon, Ann, KiwiClare, devonfc, dmarchl, jaybe61, IHeartHouseCuddy, Truth, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, ClareBear14, LoveMyHouse, drhousefan4eva22, victoria, CalebVinyard, Spicy Thai and all of the Guest reviewers._

_Thank you so much for all of the reviews and so many really kinds ones at that, many of you really help to keep me motivated, I truly appreciate it. A few small notes based on reviews/PM's—#1 the drugs Cuddy wants to keep away from Rachel are the ones they are smoking…He's still off of Vicodin… #2 Laparoscopic hysterectomies are real and have significant advantages over other methods, according to my source (who is a doctor). Anyway, thanks many times over, and here's the next piece. :-)  
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_Mild adult content warning.  
_

_**This is being reposted due to issues with the website.**  
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* * *

_-Day 7-Friday-Morning-_

They slept the remainder of the night a bit fitfully, going between mutual, although subtle, reassurances, and sleep. When the wakeup call came to their door, with the day's itinerary, House retrieved the paper first. "Yessss," he chuckled as he looked over the paper. "Today will be fun. Grab your bikini!"

"I'm not wearing that bikini in public. I don't have it with me anyway, it's in my room," she said through a yawn while she stretched across the bed, preparing to get up.

House stared at her, one eyebrow raised in alarm. When she rolled, she saw him standing there, still wearing the same expression. "What?" she asked.

"You don't have the bikini with you? Since when do you not have a bikini with you?"

"There have actually been a remarkable number of times when I haven't had one handy."

"I know you had a bikini drawer in the office. I'm certain of it."

"No, no way," she answered. "It was an _entire _filing cabinet. Lockable. Hundreds of pieces just waiting to be worn, or mismatched, or paired with other outfits. I sat through every single board meeting, giddily considering all of the possibilities contained within that very filing cabinet only a few feet away."

"I knew it…I knew there must have been something good in that one."

She giggled as she got out of bed, "I'll wear the one piece, from last night."

"The one piece is terrible. It makes your ass look all flat…and small."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, that's what I bought…a butt-minimizing bathing suit."

"I'll go to your room, and get the new one I bought for you in Cabo."

"The one you _bought_ for me?"

"Well…the one I encouraged…the buying of…"

* * *

House boasted his win in the battle of the bathing suits, and Cuddy had her bikini on under her blouse and shorts. While they were on the shuttle to the new location, a tour guide discussed the area.

"So what are we doing today?" Cuddy asked.

"First, we are going to do something really fun," House said, his eyes dancing in a way that let her know just how much he was looking forward to their day, "…and then…something pretty lame. Don't worry, you'll like the lame thing."

"Thanks," she said, dragging out the word.

"Now," House began, "when we get there…"

The tour guide's voice broke through from the background, "Welcome to Huatulco, the name means 'the place where wood is adored!'"

"Oh, Sweetie!" House said, loudly enough for most of the bus to hear, "This is perfect for you…you _adore_ wood too!"

Cuddy snickered involuntarily as she elbowed his ribs and he stared down at her unrelentingly. "So, what _are_ we doing today?" she asked.

"Well, we are going on a jet ski…essentially, a motorcycle on the water. And it's going to be…so cool. Then some sort of coral reef thing."

"Sounds interesting. I've never actually driven a jet ski."

"And may the rough handle grips never meet the softened skin of your fingers…You can get on mine. Right after you adore the wood."

She rolled her eyes while she muffled another chuckle.

* * *

After they got their jet ski, they sped off, skimming along the glassy surface of the water. Only hours before, they were in uncertain territory with each other. Their traditional patterns would have dictated icier behavior while they both repaired dings in their armor and regrouped, slowly warming back up to each other. There was no further formal discussion of the status of their relationship since the night before, but there were consistent demonstrations of a lack of iciness.

House seemed to be easily joking with her, trying to make her laugh, she was receptive to the jokes, smiling at his attempts and the underlying affection that seemed to accompany them. Between them, there were understated shows of fondness, small touches of the hand, understanding looks, and subtle nonverbal communication.

On the jet ski, House was practically filled with joy. He was almost flying over the bay, listening to the whooshing-zipping sound of water and air zooming past him. Cuddy was pressed to his back, and he looked down at her hands locked in front of him, white knuckled.

He stopped far out in one of the bays, killing the motor and letting them drift for a few moments. "Cuddy, look at your hands!"

She stood up enough to see over his shoulder at her fingers. Letting go, she waved and shook her hands through the air to relax the tightened muscles of her forearms and fingers. "I'm not going to let you go flying off the back," he snickered.

"I know!" she answered quickly, "I _was_ having fun, just didn't realize I was hanging on that tightly."

"You're scared aren't you? You think I'm going to dump you off into the water?" he teased.

"No, we were going fast, and I was holding on."

"Fine," he said, just as he started to take off again, but he stopped and turned to her. "You realize that I am a very secure man."

"Is this where I'm supposed to list all of the reasons why you should be secure…you fishing for compliments?"

"No," he fake scowled at her, "If you want to drive this thing for a few minutes, you can, I'll ride on back."

"You'll ride bitch?" she said giddily.

"Forget it," he said, turning back to the front.

"I'm just teasing!" she said, stopping him, "Let me try. Just for a few minutes, then I'll let you do it again."

He scooted back and helped her cautiously slide around him, almost groaning at the feeling of her body slinking around his. When she was in position, he momentarily wrapped his arms around her and, leaning his chin on her shoulder, he explained the simple controls. After he was done, he sat back a little and said, "Go for it."

"You better hang on," she warned.

"Right," he countered, "I'm sure you'll throw caution to the wind and go speeding off."

He laid his hands over her hips, more as an opportunity to touch her than as a way to stay in place.

"OK," she said as she began to press the controls.

He was trying to torment her, just a little, and grabbed at a ticklish spot just next to her hip. She jumped, hard, and her hand grabbed at the throttle, sending the jet ski lurching forward, and House flying off the back. She stopped it as soon as she was able, and turned around to find his head bobbing in the water. "Are you OK?" she yelled at him, but she could only see the back of his head.

She quickly hopped off of the jet ski, swimming over to where he was. "My god, House, are you alright? I'm so sorry my hand slipped…and…"

"I am so lucky I never tried to teach you to ride a motorcycle, the landing wouldn't have been nearly as soft," he said, laughing.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"Yes…it's just water…"

"I am so…unbelievably sorry!"

As she paddled, he could feel her legs skimming past his, smooth, soft and silky next to his rougher legs. She felt absolutely amazing. He pulled her toward him with one arm, still paddling with the other, and kissed her while they floated in the water.

She started turning, panicking a bit, "There was this movie, with people stranded out in the middle of the ocean…"

"Yea, but the shore's right over there, so we aren't in the _middle_ of the ocean."

"It would take forever to swim the whole way over there."

"The jet ski's right behind you. We'll be fine," he said.

She started swimming toward it, suddenly concerned with being stranded so far away from land, and he followed. She looked up at the jet ski from the water, trying to figure out the best way to get back up on it without tipping it. He wrapped his arms around her while she hovered next to their vehicle, "Stop worrying," he whispered in her ear, "We aren't going to get stuck out here."

"We might," she said, turning around to face him.

"Your pulse is racing," he said, looking down at her neck.

"I know," she answered, "Being stranded at sea has to be one of my biggest nightmares."

"Fear…can be a very power aphrodisiac," House said with even observation.

"Oh, no, not out here!" she said, "Someone's gonna see us."

"You don't even know what I'm talking about," he defended, with entirely contrived innocence.

He lifted her one hand and placed it on the runners along the jet ski. "There, now you know it isn't going anywhere," House said with a quick smile.

His eyes followed down her jaw to her neck, and along the open neckline of her blouse. Unsnapping a few buttons, he exposed her bikini top, reaching behind her to slip open the knot and let it fall away from her. Virtually all of the bruising had disappeared, and with the threat of cancer gone, part of what originally drew them together seemed an almost obsolete event from the past. She was breathing more heavily, watching his intense focus on her breasts. He was completely unconcerned with where they were, and the circumstances surrounding the moment, and she could feel her attention to her own worries slipping away.

All of the damn attention on her body, and she soon found herself raising her legs and wrapping them around his hips. His focus moved to her face and he started to kiss her again, this time with the interest and attention of someone kissing someone else for the very first time. Learning, studying and remembering the way her lips and tongue felt, pulling her tight against him to feel her breasts smash against his chest, feeling the firmness and warmth of her pelvis against his in contrast to the cool water that surrounded them. He looked at her, his eyes showing both his sincerity and vulnerability, "I'll never stop being amazed by how beautiful you are."

Her expression was soft and welcoming, "I…don't want to go years again, House...without you. Not for anything. We have…no reason to walk away now without at least _trying_."

He saw her pulse still fluttering quickly in her neck. He wasn't sure if it was her nervousness about their predicament, the desire that he was building in her, or her concern for his reaction, but her body was definitely on alert. "I agree," he said gruffly, returning to kiss her quickly before pushing her up on the runners and helping her onto the seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, while he retied her bikini top.

"Going to find the lame portion of our excursion," he responded. "You were right, we'll get caught, or swallowed by some nasty sea critter."

"But I thought…we were…"

"We were what?" House asked seriously.

"Nevermind," she answered.

"Cuddy, I said you were _right_…that must make you happy…" he teased.

"It's not always about being right," she retorted while he pulled himself up and onto the seat.

"No…not _always_," he answered, his expression still soft, while she got into position behind him, "But really, really often…it is. Learn from my mistakes, Cuddy, hold on tight."

She wrapped her arms tightly around him and they sped off.

By the time they reached the reef, joining the others from their party, Cuddy was leaning against his back with her cheek against his shoulder. Although House said that portion of the excursion was 'lame,' it was anything but. They went snorkeling along the coral reef, they saw many species of fish and crustaceans, swimming all around them. Guides provided food that fish ate from their palms.

* * *

They returned to the ship that evening, exhausted from a long, but very fun, day of snorkeling and jet skiing, and settling back in once they reached his room. He stood her in front of him and began unbuttoning her shirt. The tension from the day was still fresh for her, and she was hoping he wasn't playing another game of prolonging desire. Once he had completely removed the blouse, he stepped back to admire her body. The cabin walls glowed orange as the light from the sun filled the room. They undressed each other, methodically, precisely, with caresses and occasional kisses on varieties of body parts that were both gentle and needy. Once they were entirely naked, House lay down on the bed, and she was almost immediately on him, continuing their unhurried mutual explorations. He wanted more time to fondle her, to taste her, to make her come a few times before taking her for himself, but she was insistent and almost pleading, wanting them to climax together, wanting their union.

They moved slowly, each trying beyond reason to gradually allow their bodies to melt together. Their hands were linked on the bed next to his shoulders while they pushed together and pulled apart, with perfect and agile coordination. Moaning and softly breathing each other's names, the efforts at pacing became almost herculean demonstrations of self-control, and when she let go of his hands, hers went to his chest, and his went to her hips and ass and they let go, chasing pleasure together for what seemed like a few seconds before her moaning grew deeper, and her writhing became jerkier, as she orgasmed above him. The look on her face, the unguarded moment when she started to become completely consumed by their pleasure, made him come hard and fast inside her.

They panted against each other as she flopped down onto his chest. Both of them were facing the balcony, and could vaguely see the stunning streaks of varied colors of light in the sky. There were so many beautiful things that day: The crystal-blue bays they rode over, Cuddy's giggles at his jokes, House's laugh as he bobbed in the water, the sight of Cuddy's naked breasts in the water, House's improved agility when he swam, the unspoiled coral reef, the colorful varieties of reef wildlife, the love they made with perfect synchronicity, and, at the end of the day, an amazing sunset that graced the sky. Of all of those beautiful things, none of those visions or occurrences were the best of that day.

The best of that day was that, after discussions of suicide and anguish, barrenness and disappointment, heartbreak and loss, only a few hours before, they managed to recover. They feared the worst, but through the pain there was definite _possibility_. They weren't holding anger, or running away. Cuddy's persistence and tenacity, her pursuit of him, really meant something to him. His ability to let her back in, to accept her pursuit, and open the literal and metaphorical doors to her attempts, meant something to her. They weren't guarded or overly cautious. The best of that day was the hope, the sign, the evidence that they were both willing to surmount obstacles, to face pain, not to enhance that pain, but to grow beyond it, to find some sense of happiness and nurture their mutual resilience.


	14. Bystanders

**A/N**-_special thanks to all reviewers since the last piece: __justlobe, Alltheloveintheworld, touchatoucha7, Ana, JLCH, IHeartHouseCuddy, partypantscuddy, housebound, jaybe61, KiwiClare, CaptainK8, IWuvHouse, Suzieqlondon, Anderson, youmakemefeelbrandnew, dmarchl, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, Bakerstreet Blues, lenasti16, Julia, Celeste, LoveMyHouse, LapizSilkwood, Jane Q. Doe, devonfc, and all of the Guest Reviewers._

_Celeste—You didn't miss anything, I didn't tell you what it means yet :-)  
_

_Wow such frustration last week with Chapter 13…oh, how I hope 14 will go up more easily…we shall see!_

* * *

_-Day 7-Friday-Night-_

"There's something I should tell you…about the ending of this little vacation of ours," Cuddy said as House was almost dozing.

"OK…"

"Rachel is flying down to meet me…in New Orleans."

House turned to her, his expression completely inscrutable. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means that when we get off of the boat, I'll register at the hotel, stay there overnight, and in the morning, I'm going to take a taxi to the airport and pick up my daughter. Then, she is going to spend the last couple of days of vacation there with me."

"Then…I ever so slightly alter and resubmit my question. What does this mean for _me_?"

Cuddy saw the look of insecurity immediately. "You should definitely feel like the invitation is extended to you, if you want to take it. I would…_really_ like it if you are willing to meet her there, but I don't want to pressure you. I don't know how much she remembers you at this point…and we haven't spoken about you in a very long time."

He nodded. "I mean…I'm…a bit big to keep hidden in a suitcase or your bedroom closet for very long…and I'm guessing Rachel's probably observant enough to notice that the same guy is suspiciously grabbing her mother's ass while following her around."

"She would likely notice you," Cuddy said with a smile. "And you know I'm not looking for a fuck buddy to keep in my closet at home."

"Are you going to tell Rachel before she gets here?"

"That would be really wise. She tends to react to things…ummm…_adamantly_…and she does not like to be taken off guard."

"Can't say that I blame her," House replied. "Is this where it gets really complicated?"

"Rachel wants me to be happy. She's going to watch us interact and judge for herself. I thought she'd hate Paul, and she didn't. For all of her angsty, rebellious, pre-teen rage, she really does want what's best for me. And she and I can fight up one end of the house and down the other, but…in the end…she really does love me."

"Maybe she _is_ mine," House mused. "So, while she evaluates… I guess I'll have to be on my best behavior."

"I did not say that…not at all," she answered quickly, drawing a shocked and skeptical look from House. "You're fantastic with kids…whether you want people to know that or not. If you're fake, she will see right through you. Besides…whether you try to be someone else for _me_ or for _Rachel_, you'll be miserable just the same. Just…do your thing. We will all learn to get along being who we are. We fail to learn certain lessons, and we'll find ourselves on the spiral staircase straight to hell. I'm not saying I have a perfect track record here…but I will try," Cuddy clarified. "The thing is, I don't _want_ back on the spiral staircase straight to hell. Because we'll blow up and then we'll be separately miserable…_again_."

"OK," he nodded, caught in thought. "Is she more or less scary than your mother in the judgment department?"

"I think there's going to be more attention paid to judging my reactions than your actions. I think I'm the one on the stand."

"When are you going to tell her?"

"I have to call her tomorrow…but I'm thinking next call…two or three days from now. That way, she has time to digest it _before_ she sees us. And…since she's with Julia's son, there will be an understandable gossip-ripple that's going to be set into motion. I want to give you as much time as I can to feel comfortable with that. I don't think that I can stop it once the information's out there."

"OK," he said with a deep breath.

"We're proving to each other…that we've finally learned something, right? Proving to each other that we _can_ function together…" Cuddy said.

"Yes."

"See, this is where it gets tricky, because…in the past…I always would have assumed that I knew what you were thinking…and I'm torn between two things that may be rattling in your head."

"What two things are those?" House asked, intrigued by her honesty in admitting that she wasn't exactly sure what he was thinking. Over their history, they each always wanted to give the impression that the other was completely transparent to them, and while they did have some amazing insights into the other's thoughts and behavior, they were often wrong about underlying feelings.

"Well, I don't know if you feel trapped because I _want_ to tell Rachel about you…because I want you to meet her…and you feel pressured to be in her life…or…if you are wondering if I'm trying to hide you a little longer and put this off as long as possible. I'd like to know which one because I can't tell. Or I'm completely wrong, and it's none of those."

House smirked, and pressed his lips together in thought. "I am…nervous about her reaction to me, but, if I say that…I don't want you to think that it means I don't like her or I'm not willing to try. And I definitely do want to see her. Remember though, I'm not used to kids and I'm not great with them. Worst father-figure ever. It has also crossed my mind that maybe you are nervous, and maybe embarrassed. If…Julia finds out, she's going to be less than excited for you."

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm a little nervous about what Rachel will say too. You are _not_ the worst father-figure ever, but you don't have to feel pressured to be one here. l…don't really care what Julia says. She thought Paul was the best thing ever…what does she know? I know you've been…free for a long time…able to not worry about kids and seeing me would probably cut into your spontaneity a bit. It…would tie you down because it ties me down."

"I've been able to do what I want for…pretty much forever…give or take a tied down year here or there. But I really wasn't happy. So I don't know what that freedom really got me."

"As far as how Rachel feels about you…When you were first gone, she missed you. She wanted you to come back and play," Cuddy said. She took a steady breath and added, "Please, just…be upfront with me about this. No games, no attempts to spare feelings or sacrificial attempts to make me happy…is Rachel a deal breaker?"

"It's not going to work," he began.

Cuddy dropped her head, in many ways expecting this reaction and holding a hand up to get him to stop. He lifted her chin, initially smiling, until he saw the expression on her face. She looked crushed, so much more devastated and consumed by sadness and frustration than what he had seen before, and his smile evaporated. Cuddy could vow her undying affection every moment of every day for years to come, and nothing would ever communicate the depths of her attachment better than that look. His lip almost snarled in distaste, not at her feelings, but at the sense of guilt that bubbled in the very center and spread hotly across his chest.

"No," he said softly, "don't think that."

"I asked for honesty…" she said, looking as if tears were imminent.

"Shh…" he said. "It's not going to work _if_ we repeat the past. Like you said, assuming we know each other…sometimes leads us in the wrong direction. And if you and I want to accept the cycle of explosive fights and hot make up sex on our own…well, if we want to accept that drama then that's fine. But with Rachel… I don't want her to associate my return with her mother plunging into misery. Don't get me wrong…I don't want to pretend to be her daddy. But, I'd like her to…like me. I'd like to have some sort of friendship with her. I want to get to know her. Besides, I have competition. She loves Paul."

Cuddy shook her head, "So you aren't second guessing…"

He shook his head. "I think…before, you tried too hard to keep Rachel and I separate. I think your intentions were good…trying to keep me from feeling burdened by her…I'll be the first to admit, I wasn't always the most eager to play family. At first…I wasn't interested in having her around. The truth is, you guys are sort of a package deal and…"

Cuddy looked surprised and confused as she waited for the remainder of his statement. He looked perplexed by his own thoughts as he tried to formulate them. "I…sort of wouldn't mind that. At least I think," he finally admitted guardedly. "A couple of my favorite moments with you were…the normal ones. Dinner, watching movies…normal shit. It doesn't sound stifling…it sounds…nice."

"It does…sound really nice," she answered as he rubbed the back of his knuckles across her cheeks.

"You told me about your fear of abandonment at sea…to be honest, I was surprised you confessed that willingly. You want to know my secret for today? Because the day's almost over…so if you want one for today…it's now or never," he said lightheartedly.

"I would love to know your secret."

"I had a lot of good memories with you, believe it or not. In between things, we actually had fun. One of my favorite times…one of the best days of my relatively miserable life…was the one birthday I was around for…for Rachel. That day was painfully close to perfection. You let me hit the toy store for her present…you told me what you wanted for part of it, but you weren't upset when I added on…in fact you seemed to like what I got. Your mom got sick, remember, stomach thing, so we rescheduled with her and your sister's family and the three of us spent all day together. We had cake and junk food… We played with her new toys with her. She passed out on the floor that night exhausted and happy while watching that…annoying movie."

"That was a really fun day."

"It was. Then after she was asleep, we were both so relaxed, because we didn't fight or even near-fight that day. You were _so_ relaxed that you put on that nightie…the one I never thought you'd actually wear for me."

"Calling that a nightie is…generous."

"Whatever," he teased, "But you looked amazing. And then you attacked me like you hadn't seen a man in a lifetime. You were completely insatiable…and a little experimental if my memory serves me."

She scrunched her face, feigning a lack of memory, but failing to convince him that she didn't recall that night.

"We didn't learn…did we?" he asked. "We didn't take what we learned that day, the fact that we _could_ let our guards down and have a good time…and apply it to our other interactions after that. It was a fantastic day. Actually…spending all day doing stuff that wasn't working…together. That was the last time that ever happened."

"No it wasn't," Cuddy argued.

They sat in thought for a few moments as she searched her memory for an example. She shook her head, "Is that…really the last time that ever happened?"

"Until this trip. It isn't like we were together that long," he answered. "Between my work and your work and our mutual attempts to try to maintain certain boundaries…yea, that was the last time that happened."

"I…really wish that wasn't true."

"Can't change it," he said.

"We can't, but…we can make her first day in New Orleans one of those times," she returned. "And then, the day after that."

"Yea," he agreed. "As long as she doesn't freak out and decide she's running away to join the circus."

"She would never do that," Cuddy said sweetly, then added with a teasing lilt, "She's terrified of clowns."

House smirked at her response, "OK, run away to be a modern day troubadour?"

"That sounds much more likely," Cuddy joked.

* * *

_-Day 8-Saturday-Morning-_

"I need to call Rachel quick before we head out on our excursion. This two trips ashore in two days thing is completely going to throw off our schedule of devoting every other day to sex," Cuddy said after she was dressed and almost ready to go for the day.

He smiled, "Love that you are thinking like that."

"You want me to go to my room to call or stay here?"

"You can stay if you don't mind me listening in," he answered, smiling mischievously.

Cuddy called Rachel, and Rachel explained their latest activities at camp, and even bragged about a prank she and her cousin played on one of the crueler bullies in attendance. After a few minutes, Rachel said, "You probably don't want me to ask, but…is the guy still around or what?"

"Still around," Cuddy answered.

"Ya know, Logan and I were talking, and we have a little theory…"

"What's that?" Cuddy said, contentedly listening to her happy daughter.

"Well, we were trying to figure out who this guy is. Now, you said you knew him in college. I don't think I ever really heard about any college boyfriends, but Aunt Julia did, and we decided it has to be that guy who tried to personally demolish our old place in Jersey," Rachel said with a giggle.

The expression dropped off of both Cuddy and House's faces at the same time. "What?" Cuddy asked.

"You going to pretend that you don't remember, Mom?"

"I think that some stories take on a life of their own…" Cuddy suggested.

"Mom. Aunt Julia told Becca that you knew him back in school…actually she said something about him 'ruining you back in college' and that you 'never had a chance after that'…we assumed that meant you dated him in college. Becca has the newspaper articles from the whole…unconventional home invasion deal," Rachel added, referring to Julia's eldest daughter Rebecca.

"When did you hear about that?"

"Ummm…practically since it happened," Rachel responded snidely.

"You never said anything?" Cuddy sounded aghast.

"I guess I should have…you're taking it so well now," Rachel said sarcastically.

House finally smirked again at Rachel's snide response.

"OK, well, are you going to give us any other clues, or should we still assume you're looking for a little excitement in your life and going out with Mr. Demolition?"

Cuddy thought as quickly as she could and recovered, "Well, I _am_ finding plenty of excitement, went snorkeling and jet skiing…"

Cuddy was greeted by silence. "Rach…you there?"

Rachel finally took a deep breath, "Why did you avoid the question?"

"I didn't," Cuddy denied, meeting House's eyes.

"You did. Answer the question, Mom."

Cuddy was silent, looking at House who gestured his permission to disclose, should she choose to do so.

"Mom?" Rachel asked insistently. "You completely avoided the question. Took a question about a guy and made your answer about water sports and fish watching. What's the deal?"

"It's House," Cuddy answered bluntly. "That I'm seeing. It's…him"

"You're joking?" Rachel answered, demonstrating that she knew the name through her answer.

"I'm not," Cuddy said, "I want us to talk about this. Are you upset?"

Rachel didn't answer, so Cuddy went on, "I'm not in any danger…House is a good man, and we had some rough times, but I wouldn't do anything that I thought could bring you or I any danger."

There was still no answer. Cuddy began to really worry and Rachel said, "Does he want to see me?"

"What?" Cuddy asked, relieved to finally hear Rachel's voice, but surprised at the question she heard.

"Does he want to see me? I don't think he liked me much."

"Why would you say that?"

"Avoiding questions again?" Rachel asked.

"No."

"So, is he willing to see me, or what?"

"Do _you_ want to see _him_?"

"I wouldn't mind. He can't be all bad, he's one of the few adults that was really fun to play with…from the little I remember," Rachel answered. "I think what he did was…weird…but the articles said he was impaired…high or something."

"Yea," Cuddy sighed. "Things aren't like that anymore. He was in a lot of pain, and on a lot of medication."

"So…am I going to see him?"

"In New Orleans, you can see him then."

"Better run that past him. I'm sure I was part of the reason he left you in the first place," Rachel said with defeat.

"Baby…" Cuddy said, "That couldn't possibly be further from the truth."

"Come on, why would any guy leave you? These guys just don't want someone with a brat at home."

House's face went blank. In all of the years since their breakup he never once thought that Rachel might have been really hurt by his departure, and certainly never thought she'd feel _responsible_.

"Rachel, that isn't true. Paul leaving had nothing to do with you either."

"Sure it did. He just didn't want to admit it, and you know it, but you don't want to hurt my feelings."

The confident, almost cocky, Rachel suddenly sounded deeply insecure.

Cuddy continued, "I would have explained this stuff if I thought you felt responsible. I didn't even know you remembered House."

"Just little bits."

"Rachel…I broke it off with House, he didn't leave because of you, or…for anything else. _I _ended it."

"Oh," Rachel said, sounding confused. "is that the truth, or are you trying not to hurt my feelings."

"It's the truth," Cuddy said, "You can ask him then, if you don't believe me."

"What about Paul? I saw what happened. You were mad about catching me and Tim, you were mad at Paul for not keeping an eye on me. You go talk to him, and then suddenly you guys are done?"

"It had nothing to do with you. Paul…" Cuddy pondered a lie, or a misdirection, but reflecting on the pain that her previous omissions of information caused her child, she settled firmly on the truth. "I had a breast biopsy, I am _fine_. Everything came back fine. But, it scared him. He left."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rachel asked angrily.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"So Paul left because he thought you might be sick?"

"No, Paul left because he was scared," Cuddy said, defending Paul's decision to leave.

"I hate him. I really freaking hate him."

"Rachel," Cuddy warned.

"That's even worse than leaving because he didn't want to have a brat at home. God. I fucking hate him."

"RACHEL!" Cuddy yelled. "Not appropriate. That language is _never_ appropriate."

"Ground me," Rachel countered.

Cuddy looked like she was going to tear into Rachel but the expression on House's face stopped her. He looked completely unfazed. He looked as if Rachel's response made complete sense, because to him, it did.

"I love you, Rachel," Cuddy said calmly.

"What?"

"I love you. I know you're just saying that because you care. You're defending me. But, I still don't want to hear you talk like that again. That language…is not acceptable."

"I know," Rachel said, disarmed by her mother's even response.

"But, the important thing for you to know, is that Paul leaving had _nothing_ to do with you. I was trying to make you feel better, not create some sort of anger between you and him."

"I'm old enough to handle the truth," Rachel said, "I'm not a little kid anymore."

"I know. I don't want to be one of those parents that tries to turn their kids against the exes."

"I know you aren't like that," Rachel said. "I just don't get why any guy would ever let you go."

Cuddy looked as if she'd been hit by a flying purple pig. "Rachel, I'm…relationships are complicated, and I'm not always easy to get along with."

"Whatever. They should be grateful to have you. Sure, you're a little psycho about certain things…"

Cuddy shrugged, relieved to hear Rachel returning more to herself. "I am, Rach, that's me."

"Please stop treating me like I'm a baby. Please?"

"I'll work on that," Cuddy said. "You aren't a baby…but you also aren't an adult. I'm gonna bring House to see you. If you're OK with it."

"Yea. Just…don't force him to deal with me if he doesn't want to," Rachel said.

"She's not _forcing_ me to do anything," House said, loudly enough for Rachel to hear. "I'm sorry, kid, I can't sit and let you think that my disappearance had anything to do with you."

"It _is _you," Rachel said. "I remember your voice."

"I was snooping. Sorry. I was curious"

"It's OK," Rachel answered.

"I didn't realize, Rachel," Cuddy said, "That you were so hurt by this…I didn't think you remembered any of it."

"Your mom and I were complete idiots back then, Rachel," House said, calmly explaining the situation. "We didn't know what we really had, and we didn't know how to keep something that could have been good…and I promise, neither of us had any clue that we had hurt you."

House picked up the phone from the table and turned off the speaker, walking around the room and chatting with Rachel. The conversation wasn't intense or private, but it was deeply personal. He asked question after question, answering the few he gave her time to ask.

Cuddy was blown away. All of _her_ assurances that she wouldn't ask him to be a father-figure, and all of _his_ suggestions that he'd be so terrible at it if he tried, and there he was, talking to Rachel, sounding unbelievably paternal. There was nothing forced or awkward in the conversation. Cuddy never would have asked him to assume this role, but he was filling it nicely. He didn't start to talk to Rachel because of pressure from Cuddy, or because of pressure he had put on himself on Cuddy's behalf, he was talking to Rachel because he _wanted_ to talk to Rachel. He didn't want her to be hurt by what had happened all of those years ago, and he had no idea that his presence could have been missed by someone he knew for such a short time.

After several moments, Cuddy was pulled from her thoughts when he said to Rachel, "When your mom calls in a few days, can I talk to you again?"

Cuddy saw the moment of worry cross his face as he waited, and the subtle smile that crossed his lips while Rachel answered. "Sounds good, kid, I'll talk to you in a few days," he said before handing Cuddy the phone.

Cuddy said her goodbyes to Rachel, who sounded much less worried and even a bit excited. When she hung up, House said immediately, "I had to say something. I wanted her to know that it wasn't her fault. Are you upset?"

"No!" she answered with conviction. "I can't believe you spoke up…I can't believe you talked to her, and I think you did an amazing job."

He was shocked that she accepted his self-initiated participation in the situation. She couldn't believe he involved himself voluntarily, but both were happy with the role that the other played. "I can't believe I did that to her…I had no idea I hurt her so badly…" Cuddy said sadly.

"Neither did I, Cuddy," House added. "I honestly figured she thought I was just a dream, if she remembered me at all."

Neither of them said it, but they both knew: there were now three hearts on the line.


	15. Haunts

**A/N**_-thanks to all who continue to read and to all of those reviewers since the last piece: JLCH, KiwiClare, Ana, Alltheloveintheworld, Little Greg, Julia, Josam, touchatoucha7, IHeartHouseCuddy, Pdubou, Boo's House, OldSFfan, Zaydasky, Mon Fogel, ClareBear14, justlobe, redsox15, LoveMyHouse, jkarr, partypantscuddy, TheHouseWitch, Abby, dmarchl21, Alex, Victoria, HuddyGirl, CaptainK8, IWuvHouse, Jane Q. Doe, lenasti16, LapizSilkwood, jaybe61, LiaHuddy, and the Guest reviewers as well._

_*This chapter contains some adult content.  
_

* * *

_-Day 8-Saturday-Noon-_

House and Cuddy were yet again on a shuttle to shore. "How devoted are you to the Blackburn's schedule for today?" House asked.

Cuddy shrugged, "Depends on what it includes."

"Coffee plantation tour."

"I could take it or leave it. Why? You have another idea?"

"Today's secret…" House said, "The resort where I used to work is about forty minutes from here. There are a few things I left behind in my haste to get the fuck away from there. Want to help me pick them up?"

Cuddy smiled, "A peek into your past or a tour of a coffee plantation. I'll take the peek."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he nodded.

When they got off of their shuttle boat, they rented a moped. It was small, but House said it was the fastest way to get to where they were going. The ride itself was more than a little frightening at times. The road was often unpaved, some of the turns and twists rather precarious, but they arrived within the forty minute timespan that House had mentioned. The most amazing thing about the ride to the resort was the tiny villages and occasional ruins along the sides of the gravel and dirt road.

When they arrived at the resort where House had worked, he breathed in deeply, "Ah…home," he said, looking around. Cuddy was a bit shaken from the trip, but was trying to appear as if she was unaffected. "If we have enough time, we'll take the actual streets to get back," he whispered, kissing her cheek before backing away.

He held out a hand for her to take, which she did, and they began to walk toward the main building of the resort. House was casually pointing to various elements of the resort he had called home, seemingly uninterested in the pile of topless coeds that walked past them toward the beach. They walked into the lobby and to the check-in counter, where a tall, overweight man leaned against the counter seated in a chair. "Some girl over there thinks you're hot, Pete!" House shouted at the man, who hopped upright and looked around.

"Greg? No way!" Pete said, obviously completely high. "Man, I missed you so much. I knew you'd come back! I hope you don't mind, I took your old room…and your girl."

"Tina?" House asked, surprised.

"Yea, she was distraught with the way you dumped her out of the blue. I was consoling her…and you know how these things happen."

Cuddy waited for House's reaction, but he looked at Pete with curiosity, eventually taking the backpack that Cuddy kept on her back while they travelled, and opening it up to search for something. When he looked up from the task at hand, he had an expression of gentle amusement. "Have at it Pete!" House said cheerily as he dropped a pile of condoms that he removed from the backpack onto the counter, smiled and waved goodbye.

"Wait," Pete said, "Who's the new one?"

House turned to face Cuddy and tilted his head. "What's your name again?"

"Depends on who you ask," Cuddy answered coyly.

"Which club you work at honey?" Pete asked.

House's facial expression signified everything that was different about the way he felt for Cuddy compared to the way he felt about Tina. Cuddy saw his jaw clench and his gaze narrow and his muscles tighten. She had no overt reaction, at one point flashing a smile that was as subtle, and to onlookers, as unnoticeable, as his expression. That little knowing glance reminded him that she was his, and the tension dropped from his face. He nodded toward the door and the two of them walked out together as House shouted, "Dream on, buddy!"

They walked out the door at the other end of the lobby, and down a long outdoor walkway, which was lined with palm trees and tropical flowers. There were small tables staggered around the outdoor area, and two large pools between the resort and the beach front. Three gardeners busily tended the flowers, performing their duties so naturally and precisely that they themselves seemed to belong in the garden. "It's really beautiful here," Cuddy said as she took in her surroundings.

House slowed his pace, which seemed chronically brisk now that he could walk unaided, and looked around, "Yea, I guess it is," he replied.

"You didn't notice?" Cuddy asked, hurrying to keep up once he returned to his previous pace. With the length of his legs compared to hers, he was always moving enough to keep her pace hurried.

"Not really," he answered as he continued down the hall to the very last door at the resort.

"You notice everything."

"I know what's here. Whether or not it's beautiful…is a matter of opinion."

The office was closed, and House found the key in a magnetic box hidden under the mail box and opened the door. Cuddy slipped into the bathroom next door to his former office, trying to wash miles of dirt and gravel from the ride off of her arms, neck and face. Cuddy was feeling pretty good. House and Rachel seemed like they were both willing to make efforts with one another, and both willing to make efforts with her. As far as anyone else was concerned, Cuddy really didn't care what any of their opinions were. She found it interesting to see the place where House had lived for so long, and to have him so remarkably at ease with showing it all to her.

She told him she'd wait for him outside, but since the door to his office was slightly ajar, she decided to walk in to see what his office was like. As soon as she cleared the threshold, she saw him sitting in his chair with a scantily clad woman perched at the edge of his desk, who was sliding forward into his lap, in a position that looked very compromising from Cuddy's vantage point. Cuddy stepped back, and began walking toward the lobby, her mind immediately set on getting to the stoned attendant at the reception desk, ordering a taxi, and getting back to the cruise ship immediately. She felt nauseous and winded and dazed, as if she'd been hit by something swift, powerful and unexpected. Her flight responses honed as perfectly as ever, she took ten, maybe fifteen steps and stopped. She didn't understand why she stopped at first, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right.

House had so many excuses to use to push her away since their meeting only a week prior: her possible sickness, her subsequent health, her daughter, their fight, their history, but yet he didn't permanently push her away at any of the given opportunities. So why would House bring her to the resort just to get rid of her. He certainly didn't seem to have any lingering feelings for anyone else. She saw the look on his face when Pete asked about her, that same look that could be easily seen as jealous, but truly was protectively possessive as well. It was a difficult decision, unbelievably difficult, because she thought she should either tear into that office, screaming at him and the woman, or run faster than he could say 'goodbye,' but she couldn't do it. She returned, leaned against the wall next to his door and waited.

While she waited, her decision seemed more and more rational. It was so tedious, those few moments, but she felt like he deserved enough of her patience to let the events play out. She resigned herself to the fact that, if something was amiss, it was going to hurt just as badly if she ran immediately as it would if she was faced with the cold truth a few minutes later, but at least if she waited for him, there wouldn't be any lingering doubts.

Seconds later, the door crashed open, "Get the fuck out!" House said, one long finger pointing out the door as the flustered woman took two unsteady steps out onto the walkway.

She had almost the perfect form, and Cuddy guessed the woman in front of her must have been Tina. She looked like she stepped out of a magazine, long and thin with toned legs and perfectly balanced color. Obviously much younger than Cuddy, without so many responsibilities or burdens, Cuddy saw why the woman would have appealed to House.

"I knew you'd come back," she accused, "You don't deserve me…fucking deformed freak."

Cuddy's mouth was hanging open with mute surprise as House stepped two steps farther out from his office, still not seeing Cuddy in her spot against the wall, and he leaned down to speak to the woman, his voice low, calm and steady, "You are definitely_ not_ what I _deserve_. Go the fuck away."

The woman scoffed and huffed, as if, for some reason, she thought that he should have been begging his way back into her good graces. House turned back toward the door and saw Cuddy leaning against the wall. Then he looked very embarrassed. "Didn't know you were there," he said, the anger quickly dissipating from his voice. "Come on in, I'm almost done and we can get the fuck out of here."

House went to a room in the back, and she could hear him rifling through various items and he shouted out, with sarcastic formality, "I'm so sorry I didn't properly introduce you to Tina, but she was leaving just as you arrived."

He walked out into the main part of the office, where Cuddy was looking over some book shelves, "Trust me, the pleasure was hers," House said while he looked around the remainder of the room for any items he may have wanted. "If you see anything you want, get it now, because I really don't want to come back here…ever," he added, watching her as subtly as he could to try to judge her mood.

"She came on pretty strong, given that I'm a deformed freak," House said, not in a boastful way, but in a thoughtful way, "I was expecting that you'd come in and see the wrong thing…and you'd think I was willingly participating."

Cuddy continued to look around the room for clues about his missing years, "I did come in, and I _did_ see something," she said distantly, emotionlessly exploring the area.

House tensed as he waited to see her reaction. "I didn't…do anything. I definitely didn't instigate anything."

"I know. I figured that out," she replied.

"Good."

"Almost freaked out though," she conceded. "_Almost_ went running."

"Over _her_?" House said, sounding more irritated.

"No, over _you_. But…it didn't seem to make sense. So I waited."

"You thought I'd do that?"

"No…I thought you wouldn't, which is why I waited. We're in a grey area yet in regards to where we stand. You could still probably justify sleeping with someone else at this stage."

"No, we aren't," he said as if it was obvious. "I'd be…I'd have…I'd…" House looked as if he were truly struggling for words. "Cuddy, I couldn't take it if you said you were fucking another guy. There is…_no_ grey area here. Not for me."

"Fine…so I panicked a bit, but I waited to talk to you instead of completely jumping to conclusions and…we're OK. And I agree," she said, looking over her shoulder, "There is no grey area with you and I on this subject."

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure when she'd even have time to be screwing anyone else but the concept made him crazy nonetheless.

She was looking around the room, gathering clues about him, and was disheartened to see that the space didn't really _feel_ like him. There weren't interesting objects around, no white boards or tennis balls, although there was a TV and gaming system, the place didn't feel like House's office in Plainsboro felt. "They already took a lot of your stuff out of here?" Cuddy finally asked.

"Umm," House said as he looked around, "No, nothing I can think of anyway."

Cuddy's expression was confused, so House asked, "Why? Something weird?"

"You…are missing from here," she said.

Her observation was made possible because of the way they understood each other, even though they occasionally misinterpreted, there were certain things they comprehended without words or explanation. He scratched the back of his neck and said, "I was. The entire time I was here."

A moment of true understanding passed between them and she said, "I still have to try to ward off all of the competition. Some things really never change."

He smiled, "Yea…they all want what you've got, woman."

"Don't blame them for that," she said with a smirk. "However, I hate sharing certain things…more specifically…I don't want to share you. I guess I'll have to start carrying my own weapon, since I can't borrow your cane anymore."

He nodded, "Sorry about walking fine now."

"I'll try to forgive you." After a few moments she said, "This place feels sad. You don't have a lot of good memories here, do you?"

"No, not really," he answered. "Not bad either. Just…nothing."

Cuddy could feel the heavy loneliness in the room. She could imagine the solitude, more desolate feeling than even his apartment had often been, and she hated the way the room made her feel. "You know, you don't have a lot of good memories here, and I can't shake this feeling like I want to lay claim on you again."

"Lay what?" he teased.

"Something about our past and this…clinical environment is extremely sexy."

"Oh yea?"

"Don't you think?"

"I think…you can make every environment sexy," he said with a playful leer.

She grinned and bit her lip with just a hint of embarrassment. "Let's try to give this place a fond farewell then."

He shifted in his chair just a bit while he watched her approach him. She stepped out of her shorts and flung her shirt over the desk. "I didn't lock the door," he warned.

"OK," she shrugged.

His mouth was opened only the slightest, but his eyes showed his surprise and it was clear that his brain was already unaware of anything else but her. During more lucid moments, he sometimes wondered if that was part of the reason why he could never seem to get over her, because she could completely quiet his mind of the running thoughts and focus all of his attention on her. She was not unlike the puzzles that he would focus on relentlessly. For a person with a mind so often searching, silence felt good.

She walked past him into the curtained exam room, "Come on," she said and peered into the hall to watch him walk back. When he entered the exam room she was completely naked, and hopped up on the table and offered up a doe-eyed and innocent look.

"What's this?"

"Hmmm?" she purred as she wrapped her fingers around his hips directed him to stand in front of the table.

"Nevermind," he smiled at her.

She yanked his pants down tugged his tee shirt off of him roughly, removing all of his clothing and scooting forward on the table and hooking her legs on his hips to pull him closer while her hands went to his already growing erection.

"A little role playing?" she offered.

"You're still my favorite fantasy, but we can go with whatever you need," he muttered against her lips before delicately kissing her chin, the spot on the corner of her mouth, and once fully against both lips.

"What?" she asked, sitting back, surprised.

"I've spent a lot of time fantasizing in my life. In a few weeks we can look for ways to spice stuff up again. Right now, for once, reality is better," he smirked.

She looked away, just enough to avoid his eyes while she thought. His hands curled around the backs of each of her ankles, and then slid effortlessly up over her calves to her knees, continuing their ascent to her thighs, and eventually settling on her ass. "You are so much hotter than she is," he said as he looked at what he could see of her.

She continued to avoid his gaze when she heard his words, spoken just when as she was getting comfortable enough to look at him again. "Why do you do that?" he asked.

"What?" she said, returning her gaze to his in an attempt to look entirely confident.

"How can you be so confident and so uncertain at the same time?"

"How can you be so self-assured and so self-deprecating at the same time?" she volleyed back at him.

"You…have nothing to be uncertain about. Not when it comes to me," he said, daring her to hold his gaze and ignoring her counter statement.

He pulled her forward, his fingers digging into her ass, "You are absolutely perfect. I've told you this time and again, and yet, you're threatened by that ugly waifish thing that left here earlier."

"I am NOT!" she responded, but her gaze was dropped and her feelings exposed.

"She was a shitty substitute for you too. And sometimes, with substitutes, it's better to pick something entirely different than try to compete with perfection."

"House," Cuddy said, almost a warning.

"Do you think I did the things with her that I do with you? You think I focused on her the way I do with you? Or got lost in her?" he asked. "I didn't. Nowhere near the same thing. Because she isn't you."

She started to kiss him, his shoulder, moving her hands up his arms and pressing her breasts against his chest, trying to end the discussion and begin the safer physical interaction. "You are so much more beautiful than she is, than…any of them are. It's your voice I want to hear in my ear, your eyes I want to look into right before I push into you, your hands I want clawing at my back. I tried so hard after you dumped me to find someone that felt like you do. And I can guarantee it, she isn't out there."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she began.

"I didn't mean to hurt you either, but that's not what I'm trying to tell you. I'm trying to tell you that you _should_ be confident," he pulled her legs tighter around him. "You should know that no one competes," he nuzzled his face into her shoulder and along her neck and allowed his fingers to slip between her folds. "You should know that you can walk in on any situation I'm involved in and be completely confident that I am not screwing around on you, because chasing the feeling I get with you is pointless when I actually have _you_."

"Tina's an idiot, House. You are so unbelievably hot," Cuddy whispered meaningfully.

"Shut up," he chuckled.

"You are not a freak and you are…so unbelievably sexy. Why can't I see you as perfectly sexy if you see me that way?"

"Because you don't."

"I do! I've had a thing for you since I was practically a kid. You going to dismiss that?"

"No. I just think…maybe you're a little insane," he said with a smirk as he pulled his face back to look at her.

"You trying to ruin your chances for sex?" she teased.

"You said it yourself, Paul was perfection."

"No, I said Paul was empirically, physically perfect. Meaning he'd go well on a magazine cover. There's more to sexy than physical perfection. That's, one tiny piece of what makes up sexiness for me."

He was visibly uncomfortable with the discussion. He could allow himself jokes about his looks and irresistibility, but never felt any of those things were true realistically. "I like my guys rougher. More rugged," she continued.

"Yea that's me. Total outdoorsman. I have to remember my flannel and axe before we go."

"It is, you, kinda. City, physician-y rugged, but rugged nonetheless. Paul's…not sexy. He's prototypical…to the point that he's almost…fake."

He hovered, his lips barely grazing hers, and as she anticipated the kiss, as she waited for the pleasant sensations of warmth and breath on her lips, he thrust inside her. She gasped, surprised at the unexpected sensation, her hands spreading wide and then gripping at him, pulling him closer. He held still, pressed firmly inside her, but unmoving. His hands were along her back and neck and jaw, and then, he started to kiss her, feeling her immediate and eager response to him, and when he started to move, slowly and evenly, he felt her staggered breath against his face.

They clung to each other desperately, as they almost always did, their actions as symbolic of need and desire as they were about chasing actual physical pleasure. They wanted to be lost in each other. To allow most of the painfully fucked up world around them to disappear. After all of the mutual pain they caused each other, they still found the other one to be their best hope at finding an escape from the hurt and insanity of the outside world.

They lingered in the exam room, acting as if they had all of the time in the world to enjoy their sex, to hide there and seek bliss. They were resting on the exam table, sated and sleepy, his forehead against her shoulder while he was drifting into relaxation and she said, "Oh my god, House, we have to go. We're going to miss our boat if we don't hurry."

He lifted his head, his eyes heavy and face sleepy, "Seriously?" he asked.

"Yup, let's go," she said, easily slipping off of the exam table and fetching her clothes from the other room, before returning and dressing.

He sat up slowly, much less invigorated than her. "I gotta start taking vitamins with an energy drink chaser or something, you're draining me of my every last resource," he teased.

She smiled as she handed him his clothes. "I can't believe you did that without locking the door. When did you get so…carefree…" he said, his voice taunting.

She fixed her hair in the reflective surface of the paper towel dispenser and looked over her shoulder, "The door was locked. I haven't lost it completely."

"No, it wasn't!" he insisted.

She stood in front of him as he slowly dressed, "It was," she kissed him. "I locked it when I first came in here because I was worried that crazy woman was going to come back and try to steal my man. But…I thought you might enjoy the idea that the door was unlocked, and who am I to ruin that for you."

"Here I thought I finally turned you into a total slut for me."

"Close," she said with a smirk. "Still not into being interrupted by one of your adoring fans or that creepy guy working behind the counter."

"I'll run up to the desk and erase the security footage for this office before Pete sees it."

Cuddy's face drained of color quickly as her eyes widened. "Kidding," he added quickly. "I'm not sharing a view of that ass with him."

She smacked his arm. "You get everything you need?" she asked. He looked around the room and rifled through his backpack.

When they were finished gathering the few items he wanted, they went to the moped and she asked, "Do you want to say goodbye to Pete or…do you have anything you need to finish with…Tina?"

"Fuck no!" he said, shaking his head. "We're never coming back here, never seeing any of these people again. I hate this fucking place. The sooner it's behind us, the better."


	16. Playing to Win

_A/N-Thanks to all of the readers ad all of the reviewers since the last piece: Tomken, partypantscuddy, housebound, lenasti16, Josam, Alltheloveintheworld, JLCH, HilsonFTW, IHeartHouseCuddy, touchatoucha7, jaybe61, CaptainK8, justlobe, ClareBear14, devonfc, Abby, Suzieqlondon, Alex, dmarchl21, HuddyGirl, LoveMyHouse, KiwiClare, , yahnis14, Mon Fogel and the Guest reviewers._

* * *

_-Day 9-Sunday-3 am- _

"Cuddy, wake up," House said, shaking her arm until she woke. When they returned from their trip to House's former residence, they barely made the final shuttle back to the ship, and they went to sleep not long after returning so they could take advantage of the overnight quiet to enjoy some of the activities on board.

She mumbled a response and he continued, "Let's go do something."

She buried herself more closely against him and sighed contentedly, and he couldn't help but grin. "You know you didn't stand up to your end of the bargain yesterday," he said before kissing her forehead.

"Which bargain is that?"

"Secrets."

"It isn't sunup yet…let me think of something." She stretched lazily and then asked, "What do you want to know?"

House thought for a few moments and then asked, "Did you keep anything when you moved…from when we were together?"

She sighed, "Yea…pathetic as it may sound…of course I did."

"Example?"

She laughed groggily, "That so-called love poem series you wrote for me on those napkins…during my cousin's wedding when I was in the wedding party…and you were stuck at the table with the groom's Aunt Lottie."

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course. They were hysterical. And a few pictures, little things like that."

"I always assumed you hated me way too much to have any fond memories. So even after…everything…you didn't despise me enough to get rid of every last stitch of me?"

"I was really fucking pissed. And always still kinda in love. A frustrating combination. Don't get me wrong, there were tons of times I would have completely denied it!"

"Me too," he said through an almost non-existent chuckle. Her eyes opened and she regarded him with suspicion. "What?" he asked.

"You still…had…some kind of feelings for me?"

"Yea," he said, as if the answer was painfully clear. "I tried not to think about you, but I did. When things were quiet, when I was in pain, when I started feeling really good. Pretty much any time I was horny. Why is that so unexpected?"

"Because…I don't know. I guess because I hurt you so badly that I assumed you would banish me permanently from your thoughts."

"I don't really think that's possible. After all…we've always had the shower," he teased.

She rolled her eyes as she giggled, "How romantic. Can't wait to dig out my love poetry series and we can share those sweet thoughts together."

"I remember the haiku:

_Remove ugly dress_

_Too much it hides your fat ass_

_Weddings really suck_

That was it, right?" he asked, clearly pleased with himself.

"That sounds about right!" she answered. "The world of poetry suffered a tremendous loss when you chose the field of medicine."

"I really hope you saved the limerick. Now that you're back…I think I may have to begin exercising my creativity again," he threatened.

* * *

They wore casual clothes and sneakers, stopping in the kitchen briefly to grab a bite to eat to hold them over until breakfast was brought out. House unlocked a door to the rec area, and Cuddy was happy to have some room to get some exercise. She began stretching, considering taking a few laps around the area, when she heard the loud thwap of a basketball hitting the ground behind her. She stood up and laughed throatily, "Right…"

"Friendly game?" he offered, holding out the ball.

When she tried to take the ball he lifted it up out of her reach. "This seems less than friendly. And you have a minor physical advantage."

"So you won't play if you aren't sure you'll win?" he taunted. "Is that one of those…alpha female things?"

"No, I won't play if I can't even get near the game," she smirked back. "You're going to hold the ball out of my reach the entire time and I'm going to leap through the air, trying to get at it like a kid at the school yard."

"It's fine," he said, "your incessant need to win will prevent you from having a good time…" he looked at her, taunting, daring, hoping that she'd bite. "Besides, I'm a cripple," he added as the kicker, "You have a definite advantage."

"On what planet are you a cripple today?"

"Read my file."

She put a hand on her hip, "Fine," she settled, "If you really want to play a game that you can win so easily, I'll do it. I'm guessing it's one of those…alpha male things."

He was clearly pleased that he could rile her into bantering with him.

She said, softly, "How bad does your leg hurt if I run into it?"

He smiled at the fact that she broke their challenging antics to make sure she wouldn't hurt him. "You've been abusing it for days…I'll be fine," he answered lasciviously.

She smirked, just for a second, when her hands reached out for the ball, easily stealing it away from him while he was distracted, and heading for the net, giving the ball a vigorous toss in the air and missing the net entirely. "Cheater," he teased.

He shoved past her, grabbing the ball and bouncing it several time before preparing to throw, chuckling as Cuddy kept trying to jump in the way of his shot. "I was actually just kidding about the basketball. But…they have a virtual driving range and mini golf on the other side of that door. I don't want to tucker you out trying to prove you can beat me at basketball."

* * *

They walked together through the doors and House powered up the computer for the virtual driving range while he selected putters and brightly colored golf balls for each of them for the indoor mini golf course. They played through the first two holes of mini-golf when House said, "So…what _do_ you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Professionally? At the hospital?"

"Oh. That." She finished her swing on the third hole and turned slowly, "I really have lost it," she said, with acceptance.

"Why do you say that?" House asked as he lined up his shot.

"It's like I've come full circle," she joked, "I'm back to sleeping with guys that don't know anything about me."

He looked sort of offended on behalf of her honor and she clarified, "I was referring specifically to you…the very first time around."

"I knew stuff about you, even back then. I knew _plenty_."

"Did you?" she asked.

"Of course, I always pay attention to things that are interesting. Or fat-assed little hotties. You were the perfect combination: an interesting, fat-assed little hottie."

She scoffed out a chuckle as she paid attention to the game. "I thought you weren't interested in what I do for work. When I tried to tell you before…"

"I wasn't interested then," he interrupted, "I _am _interested now."

"Why now?"

"I'm not allowed to be interested in you? When I initially saw you, I was still looking at you like a 'controlling ballbuster'…I think that was the term I used…" he said, asking for confirmation with his eyes.

"Yea, that sounds about right," she answered.

"Yea, OK. Well, back then I wasn't interested in your career, I wanted to know what was going on with _you_…the interesting stuff. And then, I was interested in getting reacquainted with the ladies…so…work wasn't interesting then either. But now we're at the…_no grey area-slash-I'm going to go meet your kid and I actually care enough to talk to her on the phone_ stage of our weird relationship. Our first cocktail party will be really uncomfortable if they ask me where my girlfriend works and I can't answer."

She stopped playing only long enough to catch his eyes, smile with shy flirtation and return to the game, "I'm Chief Administrator of Pacific Regional."

"That explains the nice house with the pool."

"Yea, it's good work. The board there is…phenomenal. They wanted me there, so they tend to be extremely supportive, pretty much all of them, except for two of them…I can deal with two dissenters. They're actually really good about parent functions and family illnesses and things like that, so I'm really able to be there for Rachel."

"Sounds stressful…may I have the personal assistant count? Let me guess…how long have you been there?"

"Seven years."

"Wow, nice. Seven years. I'm going to guess…twenty-eight assistants. No, you claimed you were more relaxed, so you want people to _think_ you're more relaxed which means you probably try to be more easy going…so I'm going to guess…fifteen."

"Fifteen?"

"More or less?" he asked, amused.

"Less."

"No!" he said, almost scandalized.

"One. And one temp while she was out on medical leave. That wasn't my fault though."

"You beat the shit out of your own PA didn't you?"

"You figured me out," she answered dryly. "I told her I wanted that filing done immediately. She learned to jump when I say."

House smirked, "How is this possible…that you've had only one. Well, one plus one temp."

"Verena Richter. When she retires, I'll quit."

"Seriously?"

"Yea! You have no idea what a huge difference an amazing assistant makes. When they point to our office suite, and say 'the queen bitch'…they aren't referring to me. She's been there over fifty years."

"Wow!" House said with a burst of laughter.

"I really think that you would have been frightened by her. I mean…I was a little intimidated. When the previous chief left, she stayed behind. I was supposed to go in and pick all new staff. She volunteered to stay on for two weeks to show me around, and by the end of the second day, I decided I couldn't survive without her. She's not overwhelmingly friendly, but she's so efficient. She's not really a bitch she's…a bit anti-social…misunderstood."

"So grouchy, misanthropic people who are excellent at their jobs and commonly misunderstood is definitely your _type_. Is she as good in bed as I am?"

"Better," Cuddy teased.

"I guess I'll just have to keep trying continuously until I regain the title."

Cuddy laughed openly for a moment. "Well, regardless of who is best in bed, I have to be realistic. She's seventy-six. I'm sure she'll retire sometime. Of course, there's a running pool at work over whether she'll retire, or die at her station. Given her health, I think she'll hit three digits."

"Sounds like you like it."

"Mostly. I still do miss the patients, and even the students surprisingly. I actually think I enjoyed teaching, and often it seemed like just part of what I had to do in the course of my other work. I didn't appreciate it, I guess. You'll be happy to know that no other employee has ever caused me that special feeling you gave me…frustration, arousal, anger and love. All balled up in one scruffy wrinkled façade."

"Sounds sexy."

"Undoubtedly."

"Am I going to meet Ms. Verena Richter?"

"If you want to," Cuddy replied, grabbing his ass right before he made his putt and eliciting a scowl.

"I'm just a pile of man flesh to you aren't I?" he asked, acting the victim.

"I mean that in the nicest possible way," she said, leering so suggestively that he stood up and spun slowly around to allow her to look him over more easily.

"You'll actually introduce me to Verena Richter, the queen bitch of Pacific Regional?"

"Is this a trick question? You don't _have_ to meet her. You are welcome to if you'd _like_."

"You'd actually take me…Greg House…into your hospital with you. Where people could see us."

"What are you trying to say?" Cuddy asked sternly.

"I'm trying to say that you're finally somewhere where your name isn't associated with mine. And chances are good, I'll embarrass you within the first ten minutes."

"That's not true."

"It _is _true."

"I'm not that easily embarrassed and you aren't that embarrassing."

"So, you'd willingly bring me in."

"To visit, yes…as an employee…no."

"See," he said, pointing accusatorily.

"I'd like to work with you, from time to time, but I don't want to be your boss. I don't want to come home and think about whatever we were arguing about at work, or about a power struggle. I'd like to come home and ask about your day and find out about how you made _other _people look like idiots…then we can hang with Rachel, have dinner, after she goes to bed we can have hours of sex and wake up feeling…good."

"Or…you're embarrassed of me."

"No, I'm not. I'll be more than happy to help you find something somewhere else. I'll be a proud reference, I'll even pull some strings for you. I don't feel like having you and your team mock me behind my back anymore while trying to find ways around me. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide stuff from me, or that I have to hide stuff from you. Do you really think that's a _bad_ thing?"

"No," he conceded reluctantly, "You're probably right."

"Besides," she said, "You'll probably be tired of me before we even leave New Orleans. And you'll give me a quick hug, and pat Rachel on the shoulder, and go find some gorgeous twenty year-old to screw without any complications. And I'll take with me this tremendous sense of gratitude for the time I had to spend with you. That…and I'll have developed a deep-seated resentment against gorgeous twenty year-olds."

He would have been irritated, except her words didn't match her posture, or her expression. Her look was heavy with affection, and his became a mirror of her own quickly. They stood, leaning on their clubs, facing each other. "That is…highly likely," he said. "But, I'll gladly trade the rest of my years with a complication free twenty year-old, for a _year_ with a beautiful, intelligent, sexy as hell fifty year old."

"Would you?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Hell yea," he answered. "Any clue where they keep them around here?"

She laughed along with him, "We'll check the lounge tomorrow…smart ass."

* * *

They played for a short while longer and he said, thoughtfully, "Is it worth it, all of this. Dealing with me. Hearing the derision that's pretty much certain to follow from family and friends. For what might be a few years with me."

"Already plotting your escape? Making contingency plans to get away?"

"No," he said, suddenly taking her hand and surprising her with the sweetness of his gesture. "I'm old, Cuddy."

"You seem healthier now than lots of times in the past. Since cancer's not gonna kill me, at least not yet, I plan on being around for a while. We could live twenty more years, easily…or we could have simultaneous heart attacks the next time we have sex…you never know."

"When we get back to our room…I want to write down some instructions in case we die in the act. I want to be buried that way. We can share a grave stone…cheaper that way. 'Here lies Lisa Cuddy, who died furiously fucking the lucky bastard still buried between her legs.' Get it…buried?"

"_That _won't horrify my daughter…"

"She'll be alright. It won't be an open casket kind of deal."

Cuddy buried her face in her hands while she tried not to giggle. "You know one of the huge problems with us? You were always waiting for the end, I was always looking for the problem that was going to cause the end, and we _never_ enjoyed the moment. We were fine when we were having sex, because we were enjoying the moment. This trip has proven that we can enjoy moments, even if we aren't naked. Let's just enjoy moments, lots and lots of consecutive moments. Since we fell apart, I've never fully recovered. I left part of me back in that hospital in Princeton, and I didn't get it back until last week when you broke into my room and back into my life."

He had a look on his face that told her he was about to say something that objectified her, or shifted the discussion to sex, and then he looked downward. Her expression softened, "What is it?" she asked.

"Losing you really crushed me, Cuddy. Having you back almost makes everything in between seem worth it."

He wasn't the type that could fake vulnerability, but if he could have, it would have been worth it. Cuddy had sex with him on the thirteenth hole of the golf course, the one with an automated windmill. Later that night, when he was playfully teaching her at the virtual driving range, she came onto him again, and definitely would have had sex with him, had they not been interrupted by a cleaning crew. They scurried out a back door, avoiding the cleaning crew, and were still laughing at their near-discovery when they flopped onto the bed in his room, relaxed and giggling.

Cuddy's smile evaporated first and she whispered, "I'm _so_ sorry I didn't stand by you when you relapsed."

House was shocked by her apology and looked away until he locked eyes with her again, "And I am…unbelievably sorry for driving into your house."

They nodded, and waited, the moment not uncomfortable, but weighty with truth. They had agreed not to talk about the past, because of Cuddy's impending results, but those results had come and with the good news that came with them, there was no longer a convenient barrier to keep their relationship from deepening.

They faced each other, bodies clothed though near, with touches intimate and comforting, but platonic. They talked about green card weddings and private investigators, misunderstanding and ages old scars, deceptions and lies. They offered frequent and earnest apologies, and shared explanations and truths. Some of the things they discussed seemed so old, it was like they happened to different people. Some wounds were so deep that they burned when reopened so badly it seemed they never healed in the least. Some explanations cleared up confusions that could have prevented worlds of hurt, had they only been discussed earlier.

Their discussion went with them as they ate, while they sat on the balcony, when they stood on the deck and felt the swift breeze of the ocean. They were strangely receptive to the apologies and explanations, perhaps because parts of life had been so cruel. Life's cruelty, a perpetrator against them, left them fighting together against a mutual enemy so much more pervasive than any other. When their emotional marathon was over, they fell into a deep sleep atop their covers late Sunday night.

They woke very early Monday morning, early enough to see the sun creeping up to color the waters of the ocean. They said very little at first, both slightly concerned about the ultimate reactions of the other, but finding no backlash or underlying anger. In a few hours they'd call Rachel, head off to another new place together and learn how relate without the thorns of the past beneath the surface.


	17. Sneaking Peeks

_A/N-GINORMOUS thanks to all who are reading and all of those who reviewed since the last piece-partypantscuddy, Little Greg, Alltheloveintheworld, touchatoucha7, hughsoulingregsmind, lenasti16, IHeartHouseCuddy, JLCH, Phyna, justlobe, drhousefan4eva22, dmarchl21, OldSFfan, Alex, LoveMyHouse, Abby, HuddyGirl, Truth, KiwiClare, Zaydasky, ClareBear14, devonfc, skieathuddyrepeat, Mon Fogel, Bakerstreet Blues, Josam and all of the Guest reviewers._

* * *

_-Day 10-Monday-Morning-_

Cuddy decided to call Rachel to speak privately for a few minutes before including House in the conversation. He left for the dining area to find them some coffee and breakfast while she made the call.

"Morning, baby," Cuddy said happily into the phone.

"Hey Mom," Rachel said, groggily, obviously woken from her sleep. "I made it to Aunt Julia's."

"Was camp fun?"

"Good times, but I was ready to go. Tired of waking up at six every day and the food was _not_ the greatest. Aunt Julia took us out last night after we got back."

"Look, Rachel, I'm talking to you privately right now, so you can say whatever you need to say. I want to be absolutely sure that you are OK with this whole…House thing."

"I hated how sad you were before you left. Now, you sound happy. Are you happy?"

"I am."

"OK. Is he all…drugged up and stuff?"

"No."

"And he'd never like…I mean. The stuff that happened before…wouldn't happen now?"

"No, it wouldn't. He was in a lot of pain, in every way, and there were a lot of drugs. House and I have learned a lot from the past. And everything in between."

"Then…there's no problem," Rachel answered through a yawn.

"Julia's not giving you a hard time about it, is she?"

"Aunt Julia? Did you tell her?" Rachel asked, waking more.

"No, I figured Logan would have mentioned it."

"Um…Logan and his parents don't really…ya know…say stuff about…stuff."

"They don't say stuff about stuff?"

"They aren't tight like you and me, Mom."

Cuddy's face quickly twisted into a wide grin, "So…we're tight?"

"Well, yeah. You don't think so?"

"I do…I just didn't think you did, and it's such an amazing thing to hear that your daughter…"

"Mom, stop!" Rachel interrupted, "You're gonna ruin it."

House walked back into their room. "Rachel, House is back but you aren't on speaker. Are there any other questions, or worries, anything at all?"

"Are you guys sharing a room?" Rachel asked with a critical bite.

"Rachel," Cuddy warned.

"I'm just asking, you said I could ask anything at all."

"You're my twelve year-old daughter, not one of my girlfriends. Besides, just because he's here now doesn't mean he was here last night."

"Two clever redirections," Rachel mumbled. "Tim called, his parents invited me for a weekend camping at the end of summer. I want to go, OK?"

"Are you trying to use my dating House as _leverage_?"

"No," Rachel answered, "I just think that I trust you to make good decisions and I think you should do the same."

"Do we need to talk about how old you are, and the fact that I'm still the parent, or have you retained that information from the last time we discussed it?"

"Just think about it. Please?" Rachel asked.

"I will think about it."

"House there?"

Cuddy held the phone out to House and he took it, offering a soft, "Hey," into the phone and then furrowing his brow as he listened to Rachel. The girl spoke for quite a while and then House finally said, when she quieted, "I think you're really overestimating the amount of say I have in regards to your situation."

He listened for quite some time again, and then said, "Um…you are also underestimating exactly how much I don't feel like pissing off your mother."

Cuddy smirked as House took the phone over to a chair and sat down.

"You play the piano, right?" Rachel asked him.

"Yea."

"Are you coming…to our house?"

"Yea, that's the plan, if we all get along fine in New Orleans."

"You should see the family room. Mom set it all up for me last winter. Games, a huge TV. In the living room, we have an awesome piano. We have a pool too…I mean, I don't know if you swim."

House's head was tilted with interest as he listened. It seemed as if Rachel was trying to sell him on coming to visit them. "Sounds great."

"We played games, right? When I was little?"

"Yea, definitely," House acknowledged, remembering one day, shortly before the breakup, when he handed a disconnected controller to the little girl and put her in his lap while he played a game that Cuddy certainly wouldn't have approved of had she been home. The child had so much fun she laughed until she hiccupped. "_Your_ mother…bought you that?"

Cuddy looked at him suspiciously, wondering why he was looking at her with such befuddlement.

"Grades are the best way to talk Mom into anything," Rachel answered.

"I'll remember that," House answered, smirking knowingly at Cuddy.

They spoke for a short while longer, the girl explaining why House would enjoy visiting them while trying to sound completely apathetic about the entire situation. After several moments he said his goodbye and handed the phone back to Cuddy.

"Are you sure you're OK with Paul and me talking?" Rachel asked.

"If you want to Rachel, I mean, I know you liked him, so if it's important to you…"

"But…you wanted him to call me."

"No I didn't," Cuddy answered suspiciously. "Why would you think that?"

"He called last night. Said that you asked him to call because you wanted him and I to hang out no matter what. The whole…male figure in my life sort of thing."

"I didn't ask him to do that. I haven't spoken to Paul since he walked out, and I certainly didn't discuss _that_ with him," Cuddy said, concerned.

"It's not a big deal, maybe he misunderstood," Rachel responded.

"What did he want?"

"He just asked how you were doing…if you went on your cruise. He didn't really ask about me, so I sort of thought he was trying to ask about you."

"Oh. I don't want you talking to him until after I get back. If he wants to talk to you he can work it out with me first."

"Trust me, he just wanted to know about you, Mom. And I didn't say anything about your new man. I just told him I thought you were doing OK and that you went on vacation. You said you had tests done, I'm guessing he felt like a jerk for running off."

"Must be," Cuddy answered. "I want to talk to Julia anyway, make sure she's aware."

"Stop. You are so paranoid. He doesn't care where I am. He was just checking in on you."

"Let me talk to Julia anyway. Rachel…"

Rachel begrudgingly trudged down the stairs to the living room to find Julia and gave her the phone. Cuddy spoke to her for a few moments to make sure that Julia was aware of Paul's contacting Rachel. "He called here too," Julia said. "He's a sweetheart. He deserves another chance…you guys were good together. Besides, he wanted to know the results of some…biopsy. Did you have one?"

"Yea. I'm fine," Cuddy responded.

"You didn't think to mention it?"

"Sorry, I didn't. It's no big deal, because everything's just fine."

"Why wouldn't you tell me this, I'm your sister?"

"I was stressed, OK? Trust me, had something been wrong, I would have told you immediately."

"Always secrets with you," Julia said with a chuckle.

Cuddy smiled at House, not unaware of the irony that he was sitting in front of her, perhaps her biggest and most scandalous secret, while Julia was accusing her of being secretive. "Thanks for watching Rachel," Cuddy said, shifting the conversation.

"Well, yea. With Rachel here, Logan actually comes out of his room from time to time…I even saw him smile once."

Cuddy laughed, "That's good. And you're bringing her to the airport next week? That still isn't a problem?"

"Of course not," Julia answered. "Rachel's never a problem. When will you be back in Jersey?"

"Oh, I dunno," Cuddy said, still looking at House and suddenly considering the possibility of him and Rachel and her, all visiting New Jersey again, and feeling a sense of excited, yet panicky, nostalgia.

"Soon. I miss you," Julia said. "I swore after Mom died that we'd always make sure to make time for each other. One of those things you always regret once it's too late. I think we actually see less of each other now."

"I know."

"Besides, I might try to convince you to come back to the east coast. If you are sure you don't want to work things out with Paul…there's this guy I want you to meet."

"No!" Cuddy practically screamed into the phone. "No, no. Really. I'm fine, please. No fix-ups, no men. This is like bad déjà vu."

"Wait, what you do you mean by that?" Julia asked.

"Nothing. I hate fix-ups. I just, they never work, and it's always just a huge…pain in the ass. Please, drop it."

House smiled at her, a bit sadly for a moment, as memories hung in the air, and then with some relief as he noticed how vehemently Cuddy rejected the idea of seeing someone else.

When Cuddy hung up she said, "That's all I need, to take you to Jersey to re-introduce you to my family and have Julia waiting there with some…uptight, successful business type. That would be perfectly uncomfortable for all of us."

"Not for me," House answered nonchalantly. "It'll be embarrassing, and probably very disappointing, for him when he shows up and you're all groping on me and we'll be slutting it up in the foyer of your sister's place."

Cuddy's eyes were wide with amused surprise. "I can completely picturing me behaving that way at my sister's."

"I know! Me too. It was always hard to get you to keep your hands off of me in public."

"I don't know if I want to know exactly how you picture me in your mind."

"It is…amazing and hot and totally you."

"I'm sure."

"Maybe we should play school later," House suggested. "You got Rachel a gaming system…and a decked out family room…because she got good grades?"

"Good grades? No. She got…_perfect_ grades. She finished the fifth grade and she's never had anything below a B-plus. Ever. And she's only had two of them."

"Really?"

"Yea, really. She works really hard at school. She's not stupid, but at the same time, she really puts a lot of effort into her work. I decided, that last year for Hanukah-Christmas-Anniversary…whatever…to give her more than just the gaming system she asked for. Under the stipulation that she could only keep it if she kept up with her efforts."

"What anniversary?" House asked, a fleck of jealousy in his voice.

"The anniversary of when she came into my life."

"But Christmas? Really, Cuddy. What's become of you since Arlene's death?" he teased.

"Yea, yea…I do both, back off. I actually have off work now for several days around Christmas. Rachel and I spend that time together…I mean…we enjoy the whole…good tidings commercial thing. We did it with you…"

"I know," he smiled, "I remember. The best Hanumasolistice ever."

"You do remember!" she said.

"I remember…virtually every second we spent together."

* * *

Puntarenas was a beautiful town, with brightly colored, small buildings throughout the village, vendors lining some of the streets and various local foods available for purchase. Walking along the streets, the gravel and stone crunching beneath their feet, House stopped at one of the vendors and looked over the hand carved canes. There were so many different designs, and Cuddy laid a hand on his back and whispered, "Old habits?"

"Yea, I guess," he said with a smile.

She took his arm and they walked to the place where their river boat tour would depart. They got on board the smaller tour boat and listened while the tour guide began to tell them about indigenous wildlife in the area. House pulled her toward the back of the tour boat. "Wilson made me promise never to contact you again, before we even left for our _last hurrah _trip," House said, staring off the back of the boat.

Cuddy sighed, "He was probably trying to protect both of us from getting hurt…again."

"He was," House nodded assuredly. "He told me that you and I were both completely incapable of loving anyone but each other, but we were both unable to allow that to happen…because it had to be all-in or nothing at all."

"We never went all-in…did we?"

"Not even remotely," House said with a strong sense of disappointment. "So it had to become…absolutely nothing."

"You feel like you're breaking your promise to him by talking to me?" she asked.

"Wilson was always strange with stuff like that. He was like a dad, who'd punish his kid with the worst he could come up with, and then later decide he felt bad and he'd take the kid for ice cream."

Cuddy chuckled, "That sounds right."

"Right before I went to see your lecture," House sighed, "We were in South Carolina when he found out you were going to be lecturing in Atlanta…

* * *

_-Charleston, SC-Six weeks before Wilson's Death-_

_Wilson sat at their booth at the grungy diner, staring down at his phone, when House slid into the bench opposite him._

"_Someone finally sexting you?" House asked. "If they start sending tittie shots I want to see them."_

_Wilson smiled a tight-lipped awkward smile and shoved the phone into his jacket pocket. _

"_What is it?" House pressed._

"_Nothing. Pictures of my godson."_

"_I know you're lying. Give me the phone."_

_Wilson handed him the phone, shrugging surrender._

"_You put a password on here. Which means that you only went through the gesture of handing me the phone in the hopes that I'd take it as a sign that you are being honest…and it also means that the reason you're staring down at your phone like that__…_actually has nothing to do with your godson."

_Wilson shrugged, "It's nothing."_

"_Fine," House said, shaking the salt down over his hash browns and shoving a large forkful in his face._

_Wilson picked at his food, his appetite growing poorer by the day. "House…" Wilson said earnestly, "there is…something."_

"_Shoot."_

"_Cuddy…" Wilson began._

_House looked as if Wilson had said something that was shocking, terrifying, awe-inspiring and strikingly beautiful, all balled up into one, powerful word. Wilson shook his head, "Nevermind."_

"_Is she OK?" House whispered with gravity, as if speaking about her would violate a sacrosanct commandment._

"_Oh, yea, completely. She's fine."_

"_Then why are we talking about her?"_

"_I was wrong."_

"_Thousands of times," House snarked._

"_I was wrong when I made you promise to stay away from her."_

"_No, you weren't. You were very, very right."_

"_I was wrong. You and Cuddy…need to make peace. You need to put everything that happened behind you."_

"_I did. She did. She really made that decision when she ran as far away from me as she could. She put it…us…very literally, behind her. I should probably send her a thank you card for that."_

"_You made a few grand gestures of your own, House, if I remember correctly."_

"_Why's this important now?"_

"_Cuddy's going to be lecturing near here. Actually mentioned you, by name, in the last email she sent me…to my personal account."_

"_She asked about me?"_

"_I wouldn't say that. She more…brought you up. Maybe she has suspicions you're still alive?"_

"_Stop being such a pussy and tell me what she said!" House insisted._

"_She said…that she wished you could have found happiness, or at least contentment, before you died. I got the impression that maybe she thought you might not be dead…and maybe she was trying to get some information out of me."_

"_She knows it wouldn't take extreme measures to crack you if that's what she wanted to do."_

_Wilson fake-laughed. "Maybe that's true. But I think she was trying to be subtle. She knows I'm sick."_

"_What did you tell her?"_

"_I didn't. I didn't answer. I don't want to lie to her, and I haven't really been in touch with anyone lately. I just can't help but wonder why she would think you might still be alive."_

"_I may have sent her a…small clue…"_

"_How…small?"_

"_I sent her something that she knew I had of hers. Something personal."_

"_Is this a sex thing? If it's a sex thing, I really don't want to know."_

"_Personalized nipple clamps," House said, just to watch Wilson squirm._

"_Stop! I said I don't want to know."_

"_It wasn't nipple clamps…I wouldn't let them go, I've always saved them in case you wanted to use them."_

"_Shut up. You really fucking irritate me sometimes, House."_

_House looked down, "It was a pair of panties from a night that was supposed to be hot and kinky and ended up being hot, and a bit…lovey. I knew she'd recognize them because I bought them for her, she wore them, and then I kept them. I thought the love crap associated with that night might…help her remember some times that weren't horrible, but I knew she'd know who they came from."_

_Wilson's expression of sadness at the statement only served to make House feel more unhappy, so he broke the sentimentality, "Anyway, clamps or no, she'll never have her nipples tweaked again without remembering me. Now, is there anything more here, or is this just a trip down memory lane all thanks to an email from our former fearless dean?"_

"_I may have sent…mixed signals…over the years," Wilson began, "probably because…I didn't know what was really best. I don't know if I was ever really certain that you should try with Cuddy and I also don't think I was ever certain that you shouldn't. Before Mayfield…when you and Cuddy…when it seemed like something might happen between you, you tried to see a shrink. You tried…before everything fell apart. You tried methadone. You were…trying …different things." _

"_That was a different lifetime."_

"_That…may be. But it was still _you_ living it. I'm sorry I pressed you about seeing a psychiatrist and…I wish I could have encouraged you to do that…without you…deleting the number and giving up entirely." Wilson struggled to come to his words, "You wanted to be with her then, didn't you? You wanted to be better and…maybe if you were better…you wanted to be…with her?"_

"_I wanted to stop feeling the way I felt," House said, quickly and dismissively. "Why is this relevant now?"_

"_I wish I wouldn't have pressured you…about the psychiatrist. It's…always bothered me to think that…maybe…something could have been different for you. For her. For both of you."_

"_Cuddy and I would have eventually ended up the same way."_

"_You do not know that," Wilson said, accentuating his words with points of his fork. "You gave up a lot for me, to be with me…my last few months. This has been so much better than wallowing in a hospital or trying to humor people when they show up to say goodbye before I'm gone. Let me do something for you."_

"_What's that?"_

"_Let me…give you the courage and enough information…to try."_

"_Try?"_

"_Cuddy's speaking in Atlanta in a few days. Go…talk to her. Really talk. You don't seem like you without her to bounce off of. Soon I'll be gone…and…I don't want you to be alone. She…loves you. You love her, and don't open your mouth…don't deny it, because, I don't even care what you say. Let's go to Atlanta. Go hear her lecture, and I'll wait patiently for you to return with her flung over your shoulder…caveman style…hell with the two of you I never can tell, maybe she'll have you flung over her shoulder."_

* * *

_-Return to Day 10-Monday-Afternoon-_

"Why didn't you talk to me. In Atlanta? If that's what Wilson wanted and he talked you into going there in the first place. Why didn't you try. Or after that?" Cuddy asked.

"Because I have always felt…completely unworthy of you," House answered. "Too embarrassing, too crippled, too unprofessional, too crazy, too…fucked up. When I saw you here, I had something to offer. A chance to make up for the wrongs of the past. Prove to you I do care, and I can be there. I wanted you not to cringe with disgust every time my name came up or you were otherwise reminded of me."

"And that's part of the problem right there. That's bullshit. You deserve…so much more."

"Strangely, we're here, and we're completely in this now. And if it was actually possible, somewhere, on some insufferably self-righteous, know-it-all cloud in the sky, Wilson would be…smirking," House joked.

"Quite possibly," Cuddy smiled.

"For once," House said, gazing over her affectionately, "I'm not willing to do what it takes to prove him wrong."

They continued their tour, looking at howler monkeys and tropical birds, and had their pictures taken by a cruise ship agent against an amazing tropical background. When they were back on the ship, standing on the deck, Cuddy turned him toward her, "Your…Wilson discussion…I'll count that as your secret. The truth…my secret…"

"Yea."

"I know you think I missed your funeral. And I did. Sort of."

House furrowed his brow, "It's OK that you weren't there."

"I went to your apartment. I still had a key. I sat in your apartment during the funeral because I figured no one would be there then. I flew out so I could be there, because I couldn't stay away. I sat on your bed, I stood in your bathroom and reminisced, even laid on the sofa and…cried. For a long time I cried. I wanted to be…in the presence of you one more time before it was dismantled. Before someone took all of the earthly evidence of you and put it in piles to be sold, donated or tossed aside. During that trip, I didn't…see Wilson or Julia, no one from the hospital. I flew out that morning, and flew back that night…it was just about…me and you. I didn't want anyone else involved."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Completely. I may have not shown up at your funeral, but…I acknowledged your death. I mourned your loss…again…and again. I spent half my life mourning the loss of you in one way or another."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You…aren't the only one who could have tried to do something different. I just…don't want you to think that you didn't matter."

"What did you think then…later, when you got the package and you knew I was alive."

"Fuck, at first, I was so livid. I screamed and yelled and then…I smiled. At first…I don't know if a single day went by when I didn't wonder if I'd see you…wonder if it was you reading behind a newspaper or in a car across the street. Then after you didn't show up, I wondered why not…and then eventually I figured you wouldn't. But I don't know if I ever stopped really looking."


	18. Scholarly Pursuits

_A/N-Thanks all, this story hit 500 reviews this week, and I'm humbled and exceeding appreciative of all of you who have taken the time to enjoy the story. Thanks to all of the reviewers since the last chapter: partypantscuddy, Alltheloveintheworld, Josam, JLCH, Truth, lenasti16, Bakerstreet Blues, IHeartHouseCuddy, OldSFfan, justlobe, KiwiClare, dmarchl21, harpomarx, redsox15, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, ClareBear14, , LoveMyHouse, LapizSilkwood, Meo03, and Suzieqlondon._

_Special thanks to __RochelleRene__, who wrote the very first fic I ever read here that made me say "woah." Her stories are an addictive mix of banter, friction, love, hotness and depth…and the reason why I picked up a laptop and began writing here._

_*This chapter includes adult content after the first page break.  
_

* * *

_-Day 11-Tuesday-Morning-_

In the early hours, shortly before sun up, House powered up a laptop that he "borrowed" and checked his website. The waiting queue included four requests, one of which was a term paper on difficult to diagnose auto-immune disorders. When Cuddy woke up, House was waiting, his hips between her legs, chin resting on his hands, which were open on her stomach. He was smiling at her. "Is this a dream?" she asked sleepily.

"Woman, you'll be asking that every day of your new dream-come-true life!" he snickered.

She put a hand on his head, "If you needed something, why didn't you just wake me up?"

"I _was _waking you. With my eyes. Apparently it worked, since you're awake now."

She giggled and yanked his shirt at the shoulders to pull him up closer to her. "You must have something good planned if you're just sitting there, patiently waiting."

"I wasn't patiently waiting, I was waiting _impatiently_. Fortunately, you woke up about forty seconds after I started waiting, or I don't know what I would have done! I already counted all of your nipples and jerked off twice. I was running out of options."

Cuddy was laughing against him, "OK…" she said, sounding truly happy, "What is it that was so…exciting this early in the morning?"

"Want to help me with a job?"

"Work?"

"Well…kind of. I need to write a paper. Diagnosing autoimmune disorders."

"A paper? You mean an article?" she asked, confused.

"No…I mean a paper. Like a term paper."

"Why would _you _write a term paper?"

"For money. My website. Occasionally I receive requests to write papers for students who…"

"Stop…Are you serious? You help kids _cheat_?" she interrupted.

"Um...sounds so negative when you say it like _that_. I can't guarantee what they do with the papers after I write them."

Cuddy blinked her disbelief. "You must be joking…I can't believe…"

"Cuddy, my website helps students to _research_. This particular kid, Skylar J. White, needs his research in term paper format. Mr. White also has a ridiculous amount of money and he wants to send some of that to me."

Cuddy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "It'll be fun," he suggested, "We can get stoned and look for online resources to back up this half assed paper that either of us could write in our sleep. It will give us the chance to play out some scenarios we forgot to enjoy back in school. At least with each other, I've heard rumors about your _paper writing _skills."

She smacked him, "You did not!"

"I heard a lot of other rumors."

"The rumors about gender reassignment didn't begin until you started to work for me."

"Not that rumor. The other ones. It'll count as your secret for the day. Tell me about you and that hair band guy with the crappy skull tattooed on his neck."

"Oh god!" Cuddy yelled, half covering her face, "I forgot about him. Rick…urgh." She recoiled at the memory and abruptly became annoyed, "Who in the hell said I slept with him?"

"Everyone," House announced.

Cuddy's eyes grew wide, "I never, ever let that…smarmy gonad-less bastard get…"

"Then how did you know he was gonad-less?" House interrupted.

"An educated guess!"

She looked extraordinarily irritated and House was definitely pleased that he still had the ability to take her to the complete heights of frustration within minutes of waking up. "Actually, Cuddy, the rumor was that he followed you around like a dog in heat, relentlessly trying to get in your tight little pants for the first two weeks of school. Am I right so far?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, the second part of the rumor is that he borrowed some buddy's sports car, drove you to some secluded space near the lake and tried to have his way with you."

"Also true," she nodded.

"The final part of the rumor is that you somehow tricked the guy out of his pants and out of the car. And that you took the car and left him there, hard and naked."

"That is…within the realm of possibility."

"Is it?"

"He wasn't _naked_ he had a shirt and socks…and I think a jacket. It was a long time ago."

"Probably cooled off the advances of the other eager callers."

"Not really," Cuddy said with a confident smirk. "A lot of them still tried, they just tried to be a tiny bit less irritating about it. They also probably learned to take the keys if I suggested we'd have more room on the hood of the car than in the back seat."

House laughed loudly, "I'm sure Rick never forgot the wisdom you imparted. Impressive that even after thoroughly humiliating one suitor, you always seemed to have other admirers."

"I looked…really…really good back then."

"You did. You look better now, but you looked really great then. Your ass was fatter back then, before you obsessed on having a perfect body, that's the only thing that I miss."

"Because when I was eighteen, I didn't have to worry about having a perfect body. You get older, that stuff requires work. Unless you're you obviously."

"I am known for having a perfect physique. Don't be fucking ridiculous. You just…get what you get with me."

"You eat better now," she said, almost teasing. "You don't think I've noticed?"

"I really don't."

"Yea, a little bit better. Or at least better than I expected."

"You are distracting me, from the fact that I was about to mock you. Don't interrupt a good mocking."

"By all means," she gestured for him to carry on.

"So how is it that all the other boys had to work for what I got so easily?"

"I was not _easy_."

"For me…yea, you were. You really, really were. I mean you didn't throw yourself at me like some of the other ones did. You were subtle. Flirtatious. Played up that scholarly good girl thing as much as you could."

"I was NOT easy," she said, ignoring his allegation, "And you…were not a _boy_. You were all…snide…cocky and confident and you could just tell that you…"

"Had a gigantic penis?" he interrupted.

Cuddy smirked, "Tell that you knew how to make a girl feel…_good._ I could see you prided yourself on that. Confidence…can be very sexy. Or completely obnoxious. Fortunately, your confidence fell on the sexy side of the sexy-obnoxious continuum."

"Why thank you," he said with exaggerated pride, "So the big penis thing was just a surprising bonus?"

"I guess sometimes, you lean a little more towards the _obnoxious_ end of the spectrum," she said with a smirk.

* * *

House and Cuddy went to the ship's library, which was more of a poor excuse for a library than an actual place with books. Filled mostly with children's books and tattered romance novels, it did have a station to load e-books, which seemed to be the only real use for the room anymore. The room also had a solid internet connection, which was more than could be said for the rest of the ship while they were at sea. They sat at the library table, only a little stoned by the time they got there, and began to write out the paper, occasionally looking for resources on the internet so they could properly cite sources.

Three hours into their project, House was completely bored, but most of the paper was complete. At that point, Cuddy was typing and editing, and he was leaning on his arm on the table. "Did I ever tell you how hot you are when you say 'Non-necrotizing granuloma'? If I didn't…I clearly should have mentioned that."

"No," she said absently, focusing on the words on the screen. "I didn't actually _say_ that anyway."

"You were thinking it."

"Well, obviously," she said, turning toward him, "Seldom a moment goes by when granulomas aren't at the forefront of my thoughts." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the computer.

Cuddy was mumbling the words on the screen, almost aloud, but largely indiscernible. House watched her lips as she spoke and then he announced, "And 'lymphoproliferative.' That word is extremely hot too."

"Thank you," she replied inattentively.

His hand found her knee under the table while his thumb began lightly tracing her inner thigh. "Busy," she warned. "Do you want to get paid or not?"

"You don't have to pay me…for you I'll work for free."

"Ass," she snickered, "For the paper. Do you want to get paid for the paper?"

"Eh," he answered, "right now I'm not too worried about it."

"We've gotten this far, we might as well finish it."

"Yea, you go ahead and I'll read over it when you're done and take out all of the parts that sound too smart. You are really shitty at being dumb."

"Sorry?"

"No apologies are necessary," he said, looking under the table to the hem of her shirt and lifting it just enough to expose her side. "Take your shirt off, so I have something to look at while you do my work."

"Keep it up and you'll have to do your own work _and_ have nothing to look at," she teased, her glance more coquettish than threatening.

"Why didn't you ask me to help you in your studies?" he asked, continuing his subtle, but highly persistent attempts to entice her.

"Because your 'studying' also had quite a reputation. And…as you've proven today, your studying includes the removal of clothing. You didn't think I'd just appear in your apartment with my books and a pair of librarian glasses, waiting for sex…did you?"

"You're forgetting the skirt and stilettos."

"Figured they didn't matter, since you were just trying to get me _out_ of my clothes."

"I like a good starting point. Incentive…motivation."

She leaned toward him, suddenly distracted by his attempts. Her elbow on the table, chin in her hand, she moved the cross of her legs from the ankles up to the knees, trapping his hand. "I didn't provide sufficient…motivation…exactly the way I was?"

"Fucking right you did," he smiled, his eyes moving along her neck and shoulders to her breasts. "Too bad we didn't get to associate longer."

"We worked together forever, House."

"I mean pre-dean-uptightness and infarctions. Can you imagine if we actually dated?"

"We both would have been eventually expelled when we flunked out of our classes. I can see it, the two of us, fucking nonstop…me trying to leave for classes, you…brainwashing me with your…leers and your words and that…completetly attractive body," she said as she looked him over.

"It would have been fun though…wouldn't it?"

"Best way to get kicked out of school that I can think of."

"You'd never get kicked out of school. You talk the big talk but when it comes down to it, you'd study first, and do me second."

"A very, very close second," she whispered, leaning forward to meet his lips with her own.

He pressed his hand more tightly against her thigh, inching the fingers higher. She deepened the kiss and felt him easing closer to her, his entire body moving toward the source of such amazing sensations. Then she clamped her hand down hard on his. "I would have made out with you during a study session, I wouldn't have let you feel me up."

"Yes, you would have."

"No, I would not. Particularly not in a library."

"I could have convinced you."

"To let you feel me up in a library? No, I don't think so."

"No…not to feel you up. I could have convinced you to fuck me on a table in the library."

"I definitely wanted you, but not more than I wanted to _not_ be known as the girl who House fucked in the library. I did have this cool little thing called self-respect. And restraint."

"Always hated that about you."

She smirked, quickly kissed him again, and returned to typing.

"You are _really _intent on finishing that. Fine," he said calmly.

He pushed his seat back and slipped under the table. She felt him pat her hip to get her to lift up from the chair, and she mumbled, "House…"

"No one's coming in here."

"I'm finishing this, so it doesn't matter."

He slid under the table toward the door, pinning it shut with a chair and the edge of the table. "Lift up," he said as he returned to his spot on the floor.

"I'm finishing this. I need about…ten more minutes. OK?"

"Sure, I'm not stopping you."

He eventually lifted her on his own, shimmying her clothes down over her legs.

"Women are perfectly capable of focusing on what's important. I'm finishing this. Then I will be thrilled to do exactly what you are thinking about doing."

"I agree…women are quite capable of focusing on what's important. I'll prove it."

He pulled her hips forward so they were on the edge of the seat. She was barely sitting on the chair at all, and probably would have fallen, had he not been holding her up. She was able to focus, largely, on the work at hand while he kissed and licked at her thigh, his fingers progressing slowly, just ahead of his mouth. He could hear her still reading the paper, mumbling the words without pause. When his fingers reached the warmth of her sex, he ran both thumbs along her slit, simultaneously stroking upwards, slowly, simply glancing over her, while his mouth moved closer. When his thumbs became the slightest bit more insistent, but still barely brushing her clit, he heard her reading begin to stagger and slow.

"Concentrate," he spoke against her thigh.

"I am," she defended, "No problem."

He placed the palm of his hand flat against one thigh, pressing inside of her with his thumb and listening to her reading slow considerably. Then, he flattened his other palm against her other thigh, pulsing rhythmically against her clit with that thumb. At that point, each sentence started to end with a sigh. She slipped forward more, willingly this time, completely under her own power, one hand leaving the keyboard for the back of his head, urging him closer. "Almost done?" he asked, so close to her sex that she could feel his breath while his hands continued to move.

"I'm done," she sighed, pulling him toward her more forcefully.

"No, that didn't sound like our last sentence," he said, just as he pulled his thumb away from her and ran his tongue along her slit, narrowly avoiding her clit and making her groan with frustration, and then immediately moan with hope when she thought he was going to do exactly what she wanted. He avoided full contact yet again, "Read it out loud to me."

"You win," she said, "I can't concentrate, get me off and then I'll finish editing."

"No, go ahead, I'm patient."

"Please," she moaned as his mouth moved over her, but continued to frustrate her.

"Read it," he encouraged softly.

She was so wet at the point, and practically pained, as she waited for resolution to the horrible tension that was consuming her every thought. "Commonly, the most…" sigh, "ah…the most accurate…fuck, House, please…" Her panting increased with his pressure, but the moment she stopped, he backed off. "Please, please…just fucking lick me."

At that point he stopped and no matter how firmly she pressed down toward him, or how she wiggled, he would not touch her. When her hand slid down her body, to touch herself, guessing that she could one-up him, increase his madness so that he'd feel compelled to get her off before she did it herself, he softly slapped her fingers. "Just finish, you're on the last page."

"Come on," she groaned, but knowing that he wouldn't cave she continued.

When she reached the beginning of the last paragraph, actually saying the words, "In conclusion," he thrust two fingers into her, hitting the spot inside of her perfectly, so she was a completely disheveled, desperate mess. She reached the last sentence, and his lips and tongue finally found her clit, finally reaching all of the places she needed him to touch. She stumbled the last few words haphazardly out of her mouth, while his fingers thrust persistently into her, and he finally took her toward her peak. She was grasping at his neck, his shoulders, any part of him that she could reach as she came, her hips flexing and bucking against him while he tried to hold her still enough to subdue her writhing.

As her pleasure receded and the pulses began to slow, he reduced the intensity of his attention, and her hips settled into the chair. She leaned back, almost gasping for air as she recovered. When she was finally able to focus, she found his face, his lips against the skin just above one knee, his eyes locking happily on hers.

After a few minutes, she pushed her chair back to help him up, and when she had him standing, she scolded through a grin, "You make me completely insane!"

"I was helping you to be right, proving your point about concentration. You should be thanking me."

"I'll thank you," she said, pushing him back onto the table, and removing just enough of his clothing and no more.

He was almost chuckling at her fury, and the frenetic pace with which she attacked him, until she was up on the table guiding him inside her and moaning his name. His mind went entirely blank, consumed by what she was doing, and how she was doing it, and the way that she felt, so slick and hot and still almost painfully tight after her orgasm. She took him for herself, knowing, instinctively, that he was getting everything he needed from her. "Is this what you wanted me to do in the library?" she asked in an innocent tone.

"God, yes," he managed, too possessed by her to venture a witty come back.

She was climaxing again, after only a few moments, the length of his torment arousing her to the extent that she wondered if she'd ever come enough times, or hard enough, to sate the need that he had created.

She sat up and began pulling away from him, "Well, I'm done," she said cheerily.

His expression was one of sheer horror, for a moment, until he saw her smirk, and he locked his hands around her thighs. She waited for an order, a snark, some banter to emerge, but when he sat up, bringing his lips to hers, he said softly, "Please fuck me."

She almost shook her head, shocked by the sound of the request and the vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were dancing and playful, and he knew he had the upper hand again, because hearing his request, his need for her, made her want him even more.

She smiled, knowing that yet again she was drawn more deeply to him, knowing the undeniability and pervasiveness of the feelings that were lingering beneath the intensity of their sex. Kissing him fervently on his lips, as much out of desire as a need to stop herself from saying far too much, she started to move. She loved them being that way, sexy and playful and engaged in mutual torment and pleasure. When he started to climax, she came again, his pleasure both erotic and overwhelming, and when she collapsed onto his chest she just kept mumbling, "You…are so unbelievable."

After they were dressed and smirking and ready to leave the library, agreeing to finish the final edit in their room later since they no longer needed the internet, House leaned on the door before she could open it. "My secret for the day. You are the only woman I have ever said please to in that context."

"Really?" she asked with a flirty smile.

"Yup," he nodded. "Given the way you responded I'll just start by saying it every time…it really seems…motivating," he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Shut up," she countered. "You want me to _lack_ enthusiasm?"

"Never," he smiled, as he pushed the door open. "I'm so glad I'm not in diagnostics anymore."

"You are?"

"It would be difficult to explain why sarcoidosis always makes me hard without mentioning you specifically."


	19. Choices

**A/N**_-thanks to all of the readers and reviewers since the last time: Alltheloveintheworld, JLCH, housebound, partypantscuddy, lenasti16, IHeartHouseCuddy, Josam, LiaHuddy, Mon Fogel, Abby, CaptainK8, Little Greg, Victoria, hughsoulingregsmind, Alex, HuddyGirl, Tomken, dmarchl21, Suzieqlondon, Celeste, LoveMyHouse, ClareBear14 and the guest reviewers._

* * *

_-Day 12-Wednesday-Evening-_

They had another day at sea without any excursions, although in the very early morning hours, the boat passed through the Panama Canal. The air was heavy with tension, but not unpleasantly so. This tension was one of palpably escalating feelings between the two of them. Neither wanted to confess to anything more than they already had, concerned with frightening off the other, fearing that they were allowing these thoughts and emotions to become too deep, too intense, far too soon. As much as they tried to mute the outward expressions of their feelings, they couldn't mute subconscious expressions of them.

Some of the characteristics that defined their previous relationship, his existence in constant pain, hers in constant tension, were removed from the situation, and allowed them to reconnect in a very different way. Anyone coming in even distant contact with them could feel the sizzle, the very real passion between them. They chose a nicer restaurant on board for dinner, completely unconcerned that others were around, and retreated to the bar afterwards for drinks. House watched the man behind the piano with envy for a few moments before returning his concentration to the woman in front of him. "We could come down later, when all of these people are gone, if you want to play," she suggested.

"Yea," he nodded with a soft smile. "I would like that."

They slipped into a corner to dance, but the two barely swayed, content to stand closely together. While they danced, Cuddy suggested, "I have a couple's massage scheduled in my room for tonight…it came with the room when I originally booked. Want to go for that before we go back to your room?"

"Do you even remember where your room is?" he asked sarcastically.

"I think if we try really hard, we'll remember."

"I don't know…these people probably aren't hookers, are you sure they know what they're doing?"

She smirked, her body and mind relaxed and completely at ease. "We can only hope," she retorted.

They walked down the halls of the ship, sharing a secret kiss in the elevator, and a more scandalous make out session in a vending alcove on the floor where her cabin was located, before finding her room. Her brow furrowed briefly when she noticed the "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on her door, and couldn't quite remember hanging it there before she left. She released the lock with the key card and flung the door open, finding two massage therapists and tables already set up. It seemed a bit strange that they would let themselves in when the room was unoccupied. "Hi," she said, nodding at them and closing the door after House stepped into the room.

She kicked off her shoes by the door and opened her mouth to speak to House when she heard an unexpected voice behind her, "Lisa, thank god, where in the hell have you been?"

Confusion crossed her face as she looked at House, and turned slowly to address the voice behind her. She was immediately tense, her body snapping from the relaxed, easy-going vacationer, to a tense, angry woman on the defense in a matter of seconds. Behind her was an enormous man, one who likely would have been very intimidating to anyone who didn't know him. Cuddy marched right up to him, directly in his personal space, and said, "Paul? What in the _hell _are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Surprise," he said sweetly. It was clear that he expected his presence would be a welcomed one. "I've been completely sick worrying about you. I got on the boat yesterday, at the last stop…Puntar…something. Rachel said you came on the cruise, and I still had the itinerary in my email. I thought I'd surprise you."

"I'm surprised," she said, angrily shocked.

"How'd the biopsy go, Sweetheart? I felt bad about leaving, but I've been thinking about you all of the time."

Cuddy was entirely overwhelmed. She turned first to House, and saw in his eyes pain, confusion and concern. Going immediately to his side, she whispered, "Please stay. I'll get this taken care of quickly."

He nodded uncertainly. She turned to the massage therapists, requesting that they reschedule, and just as she chauffeured them out the door, she found Paul holding out roses for her. "I am really sorry. When you really, really love someone, it's so easy to just freak out when you think they're sick. What happened…with the biopsy, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," she nodded stiffly.

"Oh, that's great. I figured you were after I spoke to Rachel…"

"If you want to talk to Rachel, you go through me," Cuddy said sternly.

"Now that you're doing fine, we'll just put all of this sadness behind us."

"Now that I'm _fine_? You obviously had no idea who you were dating," she said, exasperated.

House sat watching their interaction. It would have been amusing, had his heart not been sitting on the line. He thought of how interesting it must have seemed to people from the outside when he had argued with her at work, and she refused to back down. Paul was big, taller than House, broader than House, and loomed far over Cuddy. She appeared to be completely unintimidated by the hulking person in front of her. "You are a selfish prick, Paul. You hurt me, you hurt my daughter, and then you show up here, once everything is _fine_ and want everything to get back to normal?"

"Not back to normal," he said, displaying his most devastating smile. "Better than normal."

Paul dug in his pocket, dropped down to one knee, and held out a small black box, "I want you to marry me. I'm sorry I screwed up, but this is proof I'll be around when you need me."

"No," she answered solemnly, "it's proof that you can buy a ring, and you're capable of big gestures during good times."

"Marry me," he said again, a command.

Cuddy saw House getting up out of his chair, and walking toward the door. She ignored Paul, going right for the door, and followed House into the hall. "Congratulations, Cuddy," House said, forcing a rickety smile.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. Five minutes ago we were making out not one-hundred feet from here, and you knew where things were going between us, I know that you know that."

"This…is what you want. It's good for you, it's good for Rachel, I'll give you time to consider."

"Don't try to tell me what I _want_," she said with unbelievable annoyance and fear. "I don't want _him_. I don't need pretense and gestures. I want something real. I want _you_. I've always wanted you, and now I have you and you're going to walk out of here under the guise of giving me what I want, when he…when Paul…is not what I want. You acted like I was an idiot for being concerned about you and Tina, but your concern is perfectly understandable?"

"Cuddy, he's so _dreamy _I might marry him," House said bitterly. "You need to think about this."

"Sure, you're right," she said, "OK, I'm done thinking. Decision made. Please don't end us over this."

He nodded. "I'm not, I'm just giving you time to make a decision without worrying about whatever I'm thinking."

"Of course I'm worried about what you're thinking. About what you feel. I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't turn him down because you feel obligated to me."

"I don't feel _obligated_ to you. I'm…I'm…so," Cuddy swayed her hands in the air in frustration before allowing them to drop to her side in resignation. "I will be miserable every day for the rest of my life if we let this go. And the _only _way I want to end this…is if you tell me you are more miserable with me by your side. If _you_ want out…if _you_ want to leave, by all means. I don't want to trap you, but you already know that."

House studied her face, looking for any signs of a lie, even a hint of untruth, and he couldn't find anything disingenuous about anything she said. "You aren't trapping me," he barely managed to say audibly.

"If you want out, I get it," she said. "You know what you get with me. You know the good and the bad. But whether you stay with me, or you go, I'm not going back with him. The two decisions are entirely independent of one another."

He nodded again, surprisingly lighter when he realized that she was actively, assertively and undoubtfully choosing him, even when another option was standing a few feet away. She took hold of his neck and jaw with her hands and pulled him down for a gentle kiss. When their lips met, and House could feel himself smiling, just the slightest, they heard a loud noise from the door, "Wait, what's this?" Paul asked angrily, almost as if he had just noticed House's presence for the first time.

"Paul, this is Greg…" Cuddy thought about leaving the introductions at first names, and then realized that House would always remember that slight diversion from the truth. "This is Greg House. I'm seeing him."

"House…like your ex? The one Julia told me about?"

"The same," Cuddy nodded, as she guided the three of them back into the room. "Paul, House and I are…together. I can't accept your proposal. And…to be honest…I wouldn't, even if I wasn't seeing him."

"You moved on? What's it been…two weeks?" Paul asked loudly.

"Yea, I did, Paul. Remember, _you_ walked out on _me_. You can't decide that everything's fine so now you want me back."

"You're a whore," Paul spat, "I meant so little to you that you moved on within two weeks!"

Cuddy saw House move behind her, and she knew perfectly well that, even though the odds were horribly stacked against him, House was going to hit the guy. She knew that Paul would win in a fight. Turning toward House, she whispered, "Thank you," the words surprising enough to catch his attention. "I've got this," she said with a smile.

She wasn't sure if his expression was irritation, appreciation or acceptance, realizing that, likely, it was some mixture of all three, and she patted House's chest with one hand. "Paul, I meant so little to you that you walked out during one of the scarier moments of my life. Everything that happened after the moment you said goodbye…is none of your business."

Paul looked completely floored. He thoroughly expected that he'd be ending the cruise with the woman he went there to reclaim. Paul's romantic mind imagined that a surprise visit to the boat, with roses, a ring and a proposal, would doubtless lead to an enamored and overcome Cuddy falling into his embrace. "This is my room," Cuddy said.

"My name was still on it, they let me on the damn boat without any problem…gave me a key…"

"I didn't think I had to take your name off of the room," Cuddy countered. "Next stop, you should get off the boat, you can have my room until then. If you need a plane ticket home, I'll get you one."

"_This_ is what you want?" Paul said, pointing at House.

"Mmmhmmm," she hummed, linking her arm through House's. "Thanks for everything, Paul. I'll get you a plane ticket, and slip it under the door tomorrow."

House and Cuddy were both reeling as if punched in the gut while asleep. Cuddy was stunned from seeing Paul, there in her room, on the boat, being proposed to by a man she _didn't_ want, trying not to lose the man she _did_ want. House was also dazed. Dazed at Cuddy's decision to remain with him, dazed at the intrusion into their comfortable alternate world, both re-exposed to the things they were so effortlessly avoiding: stress and pain.

"When are we going to stop assuming that the other person wishes they were somewhere else, with someone else?" she asked.

"You deserved to make a decision with him," House said softly as they retreated to the quiet safety of his room. "You were single because he left you. That was his decision. I wanted you to be the one to decide if that ended…or continued."

She nodded uncertainly.

"I got scared too, when you got sick. I hid, relapsed…you are giving me a second chance…it's not unthinkable that you'd think he'd deserve one."

"You didn't dump me," she said. "You may have been scared, but you didn't end it. As much as it bothered me how things happened…you did try. You were a frightened addict who didn't know what else to do. Paul…was a spoiled coward who thought life might become really inconvenient for him."

When they arrived at the cabin she kissed him affectionately, trying to remind him of the feelings beneath the words. They sat on the balcony with drinks. "I'm confused by Rachel's…liking of me and your liking of Rachel's liking of me."

"You always are," Cuddy laughed. "You are always surprised when people like you."

He stared at her, confounded. She could tell he was thinking, his mind flying in a million directions at the speed of light. He walked into the room, his leg just a bit heavier after the toll of the day, and Cuddy saw him rolling a joint, sitting on the edge of the bed. He walked out onto the balcony, handed her the joint and offered one of the strangest expressions she had ever seen. It was a combination of tenderness, victory and certainty.

He still held his stash of weed in his hand, and abruptly pulled the edges of the bag open. He flipped the bag upside down, and the remaining contents went flying erratically through the air and into the water. "What are you _doing_?" Cuddy screamed, her voice panicked.

"Trying to make the dolphins _really _happy."

"What about your leg? Pain management…what are you going to do?"

"Hot baths, massage. It really isn't bad, Cuddy. Anyway, if I really needed to, I could easily get a prescription filled when we get back. The weed's never really been about the pain."

"I asked you to keep it away from Rachel, not to abstain entirely."

"You can have the last one," he said, nodding toward the joint in her hand. "I was going to suggest we share it, but since you're so upset about your supply being cut off…" he teased.

"I didn't ask you to do that!"

"Stop," he firmly stated. "You didn't ask me, I decided to. I made the choice."


	20. She Who Follows, Falls

**A/N**-_Thanks to all of the readers for sticking with this tale, and all of the reviewers since the last chapter: housebound, Alltheloveintheworld, JLCH, Josam, Little Greg, lenasti16, hughsoulingregsmind, IHeartHouseCuddy, Mon Fogel, LapizSilkwood, touchtouch7, southpaw2, OldSFfan, Zaydasky, justlobe, ohwindot (it actually says that Cuddy "chauffeured" the massage folks out of the room before the argument...As for the rest, if you message me I'll respond to your other concerns :-)), dmarchl21, IWuvHouse, partypantscuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, Abby, ClareBear14, Alex, HuddyGirl, Suzieqlondon, LoveMyHouse, CaptainK8, AussieFan12, Tomken, RochelleRene and the anonymous Guest reviewers…you guys are so kind and supportive, and, as always, your time and words are appreciated!_

_OK…the trip is a total 18 days, including the days in New Orleans and there will be a little post-trip follow through. My heart's really with my last fic, so if I write on, beyond that, it will be in that "universe". This one was more my "coping" with the actual finale. Sorry to disappoint all of those who want more from this one…but we're nearing the end here. After that I'm gonna go back and re-read Too Lost to get reacquainted, and I'll continue from on from the end of that story._

* * *

_-Day 13-Wednesday-Morning-_

Cuddy purchased an airline ticket online for Paul from Cozumel to California. She and House stood in the library as they printed the flight information, smiling while they remembered their last stop in the library. When they were finished, they took the ticket to Paul's room. When the ticket disappeared completely under the door, she grinned at House and the two of them continued on to the empty bar. The bar wasn't really closed, but it was free of guests. There was still a bartender working, inventorying and restocking shelves, available to serve drinks to the occasional guest.

Cuddy walked up to the bar, asking about the piano in the corner with the vacant bench. By the time she turned to tell House he could feel free to use it, he was already seated and his hands were moving to the keys. Cuddy ordered each of them a drink, depositing one for House carefully on top of a napkin by the piano, and taking one for herself to a table next to a wide window with an unencumbered view of the outside.

House spent so much of his adult life in a drug induced state that he became numb to so many things. As he learned years earlier during his period of sobriety, and was re-experiencing, some things were just better when there was no chemical pall between his mind and an experience. The two experiences that seemed to make sobriety worthwhile were playing the piano and making love to Cuddy. These two things were best experienced without any muting or distance from their purest forms. As he sat playing, enjoying the sounds and feelings of the music, enjoying the knowledge that she was there, listening, and probably happy, he felt fully alert and alive.

When he paused, one hand still on the keys and the other reaching for his drink, he saw Cuddy seated at the table. Across her from her at the table, was the bartender, who was chatting at a remarkable pace about something that was apparently very exciting to him, and completely disinteresting to Cuddy. She had the subtlest of smiles on her face as she watched him play. Leaning back slightly in her chair, her arms folded loosely in front of her, one foot kicking happy at the end of her crossed leg, her entire focus was on House. He felt it was rare to be her _entire_ focus, unless she was really angry with him. She clearly was not angry.

Cuddy did her best not to be entirely dismissive to the friendly man seated at her table, who was openly admiring House's music, and eagerly asking about their trip, but it felt impossible to maintain even the pretense of interest. She couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't spent more time like this before, but it always seemed like there wasn't time. Her smiled flickered momentarily while she realized that if _this _was important to her, they'd have to make the time.

House played for a quite a while, until he realized just how hungry he was and pulled his hands back from the keys. Cuddy was still smiling at House; the bartender was still swinging past her table while he worked to tell inane stories that he seemed to find pleasantly humorous. When she knew House was done playing, she said a quick goodbye to the bartender and walked over to the piano. His hands were resting loosely on his thighs as she slid next to him on the bench. "Did your friend have a lot of good stories?" he asked.

"I have no idea," she said smiling, "I was busy."

They stopped for coffee and a light breakfast, and then went up on deck to enjoy the cool morning air while they ate. Sitting on the highest open deck, shoulder to shoulder, House turned to her, his facial expression serious, and said, "Why _didn't _you ever go out with Wilson?"

He could see the surprise on her face as she took on his question, shaking her head to test reality, "You wanted me to? That's…random."

"Not really."

"Yea…really random. You aren't…still concerned about _that, are you? _The guys dead!"

"I was occasionally dead and you still lusted after me," he accused facetiously.

She elbowed his ribs, "You didn't _remain_ dead. I always liked that about you," she said, with jovial flirtation.

He turned serious again, "I'm not jealous. I'm asking. Wilson was safer, and you knew that. He would have been good to Rachel. Good to you…"

"For a while," she nodded. "Wilson had his own problems with maintaining relationships. He knew it…you knew it. He would have wanted to rescue me, and then he probably would have done the same thing he did with his other relationships."

"Did you ever talk about it with him?" House asked.

Cuddy brushed the top of her cup as she thought, "Yes."

"I appreciate the honesty," House answered.

"We did talk about it, _casually_," she continued, "But I didn't…"

"You don't have to tell me," he answered.

"I want to," she countered. "It was just a discussion about how we knew we could never work. Even on paper, Wilson was not a good fit for me. And, even if the paper was _perfect,_ even if our little hypothetical dating profiles were perfect matches, you can't fake attraction. He never made me so nervous that I'd worry I was going to trip when I walked away, and he didn't melt me with a single glance or turn me on with one word whispered in my ear."

"You have never worried about tripping when you walked away."

"Yea…around you I have. I always wanted you to see me as your fantasy. Nothing destroys a fantasy like falling on your ass as the crowning moment of the perfect exit."

House nodded, staring into the distance, squinting as he thought. "You think imperfections ruin attraction?"

"No," she laughed. "I think imperfections ruin _fantasies. _Attraction…love…is sometimes…enhanced by imperfections."

His breath chuckled, "Really? No wonder I'm so irresistible to you."

"Fantasies are supposed to be these perfect images. This person or encounter that isn't bogged down by reality. Attraction…love…that's totally different. When you're first with someone, and you see them in the morning, all disheveled and imperfect, or when you're the one who sees the little flaws and scars that no one else is privy to seeing…those moments mean something. You can see someone you _love_ trip and stub their toe and for some reason that vulnerability, or any of the other human moments you see, are sort of endearing. With a fantasy, sometimes ordinary truths ruin that. Little imperfections make a person real…unique. And when a person lets their guard down enough to let those imperfections show…it shows a certain degree of trust."

"So you were just supposed to be a fantasy to me…you didn't ever want to become an imperfection-enhanced reality?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to be a reality," she said, chuckling. "With us, it was our huge, looming imperfections that seemed to stop us from ever getting there…and then once we were there, well…let's just say those huge, looming imperfections didn't moderate."

"You went out with Paul, and it's easy to see why he wasn't a good match for you."

"I did. I did go out with Paul," she said, with a sense of disbelief. "Paul, as embarrassingly irritating as he is, is physically attractive. I gave up on finding something really meaningful. You were who I loved, and look how that turned out. After everything happened to us, I could see the look in people's eyes, hell, one or two people told me outright, 'It's House. You signed up for it. You knew before you took him home. What did you think you were going to get?'"

"People told you that?"

"Yes, which is really an insult to both of us. Back then, I was too angry and confused to try to explain to them the complexities that are you."

He smiled, "And you understand them…my complexities?"

"I hope so," she smiled. "You don't eagerly show your hand. You show this heartless exterior, and yet, you are one of the most sensitive people I know."

"Hold your tongue," he said, laughing.

She smiled at him, "You feel things so much more deeply than you like to admit. I'm not suggesting that people go to you to cry about their lives, or that you're going to decorate our room with pictures of puppies and kittens." Their eyes met over the easiness of the phrase 'our room,' but she continued. "I'm just saying that when you get hurt you feel it very deeply. And you do…care. When something matters, you really do. Besides…really, I don't think Wilson really ever wanted me."

"Every man has wanted you."

"Not true," she said, shaking her head. "You see me differently. I mean…I think I look good. I think I used to look really good, but no one woman is right for every man. Wilson saw me as 'yours,' and probably more like a sister to him than anything. Anyway," she said, her eyes alive and frivolous, "I don't know if you've heard, but a lot of people think I'm a huge bitch."

He laughed, and with performed chivalry declared, "I'll defend your name to every last one of them."

"You're gonna be busy. And fighting with yourself will just look ridiculous," she giggled.

"I don't think you're a bitch," he clarified.

"At times you probably did. Ultimately, I was too much for Wilson to handle, he was never nearly _enough_ for me to handle, and I already belonged to you."

"You did, huh?" House said, still laughing softly over their exchange.

"It's really amazing that with everything that was going on when this trip began, you were able to lead me to distraction. I mean, I was stressed, worried, sad, lonely, and then there you are, sneaking up behind me, scaring the shit out of me and subsequently making me have fun during one of the times in my life when I didn't think it was even possible to smile. I mean…I'm 'Cuddy,' I can be stressed and tense through anything. It wasn't so much the stuff we were doing that got me through, it was you, being around you, being able to let loose and…"

Her grin disappeared quickly, a somber look covering the recent giddiness.

"Did I…say something? Or maybe _not_ say something when I was supposed to be saying something?" he asked, suddenly feeling a wash of concern.

"No, not at all," she said, leaning toward him reassuringly.

"Then what just happened?"

"I…am yours. I never could stop being yours."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry for that. I am still so in love with you, House," she said, tipping her head forward into her hand. "It's against logic. Anyone who cares about us and knows all of our history should tell us to run. They should remind us of the fifty million ways we've hurt one another, and tell us how incredibly stupid we are to ever hope for a different outcome. But yet, I find myself feeling…"

She thought for a few seconds, so he attempted to complete her thought, "Hopeful?"

"Yes!" she answered, lifting her head to look at him. "Hopeful. It's so very foreign…that whole fucking feeling. I've been missing so much of me for so many years. As much as I know logically that we should run…I don't want to. As illogical as it seems, for some reason, my head is clearer with you. I know as a self-respecting woman, I should be strong enough to walk away before more damage is done, but I'm stronger with you. I know that, if I really love you, I should tell you to walk away from me because…I always hurt you and I don't want to hurt you, but I'm…crazy enough to think that we can do this without ruining each other. I don't know if it's…age or exhaustion or this…indescribably imperishable attraction that we have for each other, but I…love you. Somehow, even more than I did before."

"Cuddy, I…"

"Stop," she said immediately, holding up her hand. "You don't have to _say_ anything. I don't need that because the last thing I want to do is…urgh. No. Just…say nothing. You are here and that's what means something. Actions matter, right? You stood by me, distracted me when I needed you to, made me feel…beautiful and funny and smart and…desired. I haven't felt like _that_ for a long time. You've been so great with Rachel, and really open with me. You risked rejection…let me into your world…into…_you. _I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know how I feel."

"Some things just never change," he said, smiling. Her face looked pained so he spoke quickly, "I mean that you're assuming something. You _should_ feel beautiful, funny, smart and desired. All of the time. You make me feel like I'm more than what everyone else sees."

Her look of pain evaporated into one of affection because the words he said meant so much to him. Then he snarked, "You also make me feel like a cheap whore when you use my body relentlessly for your own gratification."

She smirked and rolled her eyes, sarcastically adding, "Sorry!"

"Did you forget that 'cheap whore' is one of my favorite feelings?"

"I must have."

"And you claim to know me," he said with his own exaggerated eye roll. "Top five favorite feelings are…feeling like a cheap whore, not feeling completely unhappy, the feeling I get after satisfying your unquenchable needs, the feeling I get when I'm listening to or playing really great music, and…the feeling I get from being completely in love with you too."

Cuddy was smiling and nodding in affirmation at his list of favorite feelings, until he reached the last one. A very serious one.

"That's not funny if it's a joke," she said.

"I would agree, it's not a funny joke at all. The other ones weren't really jokes either, although maybe the cheap whore one is a mild embellishment of the truth. The rest were all pretty spot on. Kinda seems like…my secret and yours are the same. For today."

It was House's turn to look on nervously, waiting for a reaction, although in retrospect, after her confession, it didn't make any sense to be concerned. They both looked momentarily stunned and vulnerable, because they were. In moments like these, during much of their history, when one or the other opened up to the idea of romantic feelings, the other usually slammed the door shut. Out of fear. Out of self-preservation. Out of love. That moment, neither had any intention of slamming the door.

Neither seemed to know what to say after the mutual declarations until Cuddy finally said, "I mean we've been sort of…dancing around it. We've pretty much saying everything but…_it_."

"Neither of us would involve Rachel if it was anything less," he observed, "essentially we've spent almost two weeks…demonstrating it…without saying it. Really, we are just…verbalizing."

She wrapped an arm around him, "We are pretty crazy."

"Crazy is sometimes more honest," he offered, "There are no façades, no attempts to be polite. Between the two of us, we've had a couple of stays in jail, some time in the nut house, a few complete breakdowns, and some stays in the hospital because of self-inflicted wounds of varying origins."

She looked at him expectantly, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "OK," he clarified, "so all of those were me, but it doesn't change the truth of my statement that all of those things are true between the two of us…I'm just a better contributor to the team."

"I've fallen apart from time to time," she answered.

"Just so you understand, when you fall apart, at least from the outside, it looks like jumping off of a chair. When I fall apart, it's more like leaping out of a plane without a parachute."

"Some pretty unfortunate things have happened to you. Really, it's a matter of externalization," she said, meeting an incredulous look from him. "We each have…different ways of expressing ourselves."

He chuckled, "Back to the old 'defending House,' routine? It's been a long time since you've had to convince a board to keep me on."

"As a result, board meetings have been intolerably tedious since you've been out of my life," she answered, drawing him closer for a kiss. "I do love you," she said as she pulled away. "I want…us. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't create any…expectations or…"

"It should," he said, nodding. "You should expect things of me. I mean…I want those expectations to be realistic. I don't want to stop being me. I'm not going to wear a suit and tie to a PTO meeting, but if you don't expect _anything_ of me then…what's the point in having me. You'll grow to resent it."

She smiled, "OK, you're right."

"Don't act like I have one foot out the door, and I'll try not to act like you are getting ready to slam it shut on me. I want to help with stuff. I want you to act like you trust me with things."

"I do."

"Well, once Rachel's a part of all of this, you'll have to _actually_ trust me with things. I will fuck up. Regularly."

"So will I. Let's just agree to try to make our expectations clear and maybe…this time…we can put enough trust in each other to make it work."

The ship docked in Cozumel. Later in the day, they went to Tulum, one of the most beautiful sights either had ever seen. There were Mayan Ruins, the air thick with history and the place imprinted by the many lives that had passed through that place. Along the sea, there was a steep cliff, dropping down to the roughly breaking, bright blue and frothy white water. The power, beauty and vastness, history and depth of that place, dwarfed their own pasts and offered some perspective. Cozumel was the last excursion before they arrived at their final destination. It was amazing, and in its own way, sad. Both were eager to see Rachel and arrive in New Orleans, but the end of the trip mean that inevitably things _would_ change, no matter what agreements they came to or preparations they made.

They returned to the boat, stopping in Cuddy's room to be sure that Paul had left. The room was empty, except for a few of Cuddy's things, and it appeared that he was gone. There was a note, a brief thanks from Paul for the ticket with a succinct apology. With Paul gone, they decided it was time to focus on enjoying the last few moments of their time together on the boat before their return to the States.


	21. Caught

_A/N-Thanks to all of the readers and reviewers since the last segment-Alltheloveintheworld, LapizSilkwood, lenasti16, JLCH, Josam, IHeartHouseCuddy, OldSFfan, Bakerstreet Blues, justlobe, partypantscuddy, housebound, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, LoveMyHouse, ClareBear14, dmarch21 and Mon Fogel._

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_-Day 15-Friday-Afternoon-_

House and Cuddy spent Thursday and most of Friday hiding in their room, enjoying their solitude. In some ways, they clung to it like a lifeline. The joked about sending for Rachel, and setting up a tent in the jungle, or working on a cruise ship full time in exchange for room and board on the boat. They felt happy, sated and loved. They snuck into the arcade overnight, playing like kids, freed from worry. Cuddy dominated skee ball and House ruled the air hockey table.

Friday was their last full day on the ship, the next morning, they'd get off of the boat in New Orleans. When Cuddy woke from a nap, she found House at the end of the bed, looking through her luggage. "Snooping?" she asked.

"Do you care?"

"Not really, go ahead."

"Really?" he asked excitedly. "Does the same policy apply at your place?"

"Like I could stop you. I really don't care, have at it," she answered tiredly. "Not Rachel's room though. She catches you in her stuff, and she'll re-cripple you."

"So if you have something good, maybe you'll hide it in there," he asked with feigned suspicion.

"Yes, I hide everything I want to keep secret in my daughter's room. She's not nosy at all."

"Rainy day money…sex toys…secret dominatrix outfit?"

"All in Rachel's room. I just put that stuff in a little cardboard Pandora's box on her dresser and ask her to pretty please not look inside," she replied sarcastically.

"Why haven't I seen this?" he asked, holding up lingerie. "So you _were _planning on getting laid on this trip!"

"Either that…or I bought it in the shop downstairs the other day while you were showering as a surprise."

House tossed her things aside and smiled while he eased them back into the bed. He pulled the covers back from her, noticing that the painful bruising that had once covered her breast had faded away and only tiny marks remained. He ran his rough chin across her ribs and she shifted slightly away from the tickling sensation. His fingers trailed along her skin to her breasts and she sighed as she allowed the pleasantness of the moment to overrun her thoughts. She shifted him over so she could hook her legs loosely around his back, just so she could hold him closer to her. Her arms stretching enticingly over her head, she wiggled beneath him and listened to his soft, approving sigh. They were disappearing into each other until her phone began beeping by the bedside. The first beep, Cuddy ignored, directing House's mouth to her nipple. He complied with her direction, and then they heard her phone beep again. After six beeps, evidence of messages coming in as they grew closer to shore and cell signals grew stronger, she said, "Hang on, handsome."

She shifted toward the small bedside table to get the phone. He groaned his displeasure at the diversion, and she said, "Rachel. Anything else can wait until we get back. I just want to see who called and make sure she's OK. Kids…don't always have the best timing and sometimes…the times when they need you the most…aren't the most convenient," she chuckled before looking at her screen. "Fourteen messages!"

"It's probably just work," he said reassuringly.

"I keep separate phones for work and home. My work phone is on my desk at home. My assistant Verena's the only one with the number and I doubt she'd let them contact me unless there was a complete catastrophe."

He smiled at the attempt she made in her life to carve out some personal space away from work, but couldn't help but worry, wondering if the messages were an angry Paul, worried Julia or sick Rachel.

He sat back to allow her to get up, and watched her while she paced back and forth. She was obviously worried, still completely naked as she walked and fretted, dialing the passcode. "First one's Paul…when he first arrived on the boat," she said. Then her expression changed to one of complete panic. "Julia, asking me to call, Rachel, she sounds…upset. I have to call her, Julia said something about the hospital…oh my god, House! I shouldn't have left her!"

"You can't blame whatever happened on the fact that you took a fucking vacation. Besides, you said she was ready to spend some time with her cousin. Just relax, it could be anything, stop speculating and just call her."

"Rachel was at Memorial, it's the insurance company," Cuddy practically shouted as she heard the next message.

House stood, trying to maintain a calm look and demeanor while his gut clenched with concern. Approaching her, he took the phone from her hand and put it on speaker. He hated the moments where he had to watch Cuddy react to news when he couldn't hear what it was, and then wait to hear her explanation later. He dialed Rachel, and the call went directly to voicemail. Next, he dialed Julia's number and held the phone out to Cuddy. "You want to talk to your sister or you want me to?" he asked, his tone free of malice or anger.

She nodded and took the phone from his open hand.

"Hello?" they heard Julia answer.

"Julia, what's going on, is Rachel OK?"

"She's fine, Lisa," Julia said, "Just breathe…she is doing fine."

"What in the hell's going on?"

"OK, there was a small accident. She and Logan were acting like indestructible, carefree _idiots_," House and Cuddy could tell that at least one of the kids must have been within earshot, as Julia directed her frustration at them while she spoke. "Urgh…I'm sorry. I have a feeling my son may have encouraged this. They were sneaking out, climbing on trees and spouting and _god knows what_ but the spouting they were on snapped. They are both _fine_ but…Logan has a concussion…and Rachel broke her left leg and she's pretty bruised up. All in all, it could have been much worse. I'm so sorry Lisa, I feel completely responsible…"

"It's fine. What kind of fracture?"

"I don't know, Lisa, the painful kind? I had both of them in the ER by myself, it was a lot to pay attention to, and I'm not a doctor. It's in a cast now and she's fine. They said there were no complications. The problem is, I don't think I should put her on a plane for New Orleans. I think flying alone…when she has the broken leg and she's hurting …it seems too much at her age."

"I agree," Cuddy responded. "We'll come up and get her."

"OK, sounds good," Julia said.

"Let me talk to Rachel."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it was stupid. You don't even have to tell me," Rachel said the moment she had the phone. "I'm sure you're mad. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It always does," Cuddy said with a dry laugh. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, really," Rachel insisted. "Enjoy your trip? You'll have to come get me, I guess. I'm so sorry I ruined your vacation."

"You didn't ruin anything. We'll talk about it when I get back. Meanwhile, let me try to find the first flight back. We don't dock until morning, so it will be at least tomorrow night before we can get there. Maybe not until Sunday."

"I'm just hanging out on Aunt Julia's sofa and she's babying me. I'm fine, I promise, except I smashed my phone when I fell and I'm going crazy without it. Can I get a new one?"

"We'll talk about the phone. A few days without it seems fitting, doesn't it?" Cuddy said. "No attempts to escape tonight, got it?"

"Yes," Rachel replied, adding with a laugh, "Trust me, I'm not going anywhere. Logan's not going anywhere until he's at least eighteen if his mom has her say."

"OK."

"Wait," Rachel said quickly before ending the call. "Are you…" Cuddy could hear Rachel hesitate, likely because Julia was still in the room. "Are we still doing the same thing when we get home, are we all hanging out…or did I ruin it?"

"House is still here, and I'm still bringing him home with us, OK?" Cuddy reassured her.

"OK," Rachel said.

"I'm glad you're OK, but I'm sure you know I'm not too thrilled about you running around at night…sneaking out."

"Yea, I figured."

"Alright. I'll talk to you soon Rach, I love you."

"Love you," Rachel replied. "Wait, Aunt Julia wants to talk to you."

"Lisa?" Julia questioned once she had the phone, "Did you say '_we'll_ come get her?' Are you and Paul back on?"

"Paul and I are not back on, and will never be back on," Cuddy answered, irritated.

Julia accepted the answer without further question because Cuddy sounded so adamant. "Oh, OK."

"I'll call you with our flight information later, alright?"

"You said 'our' flight."

"Let it go," Cuddy insisted before saying her goodbyes and hanging up.

Cuddy ended the call and threw her hands out to her side, "I'm sorry, House, I have to cut New Orleans short. I'm acting like you have to go with me. I shouldn't drag you into this. If you want, you can have a few days there in New Orleans while I get Rachel, and we can all meet up in California."

"California?" he asked, incredulously. "You don't want me to stay with you?"

"I have to go to Julia's place in Jersey to get her. That's…where Rachel is staying…actually at Julia's place."

"You're going to tell me that you aren't embarrassed of me…and I _do _believe you, so let me guess. You're afraid she's going to have you committed? You don't want to have to deal with your family knowing about us yet…something like that, am I close?"

"It isn't any of that," Cuddy answered.

"I know I'm not the guy you want _other_ _people_ to see you with, but I am the guy _you_ want. So what's it going to be?"

"You're making assumptions. Again. You hate my sister."

"No, I don't."

"You really, really don't like her then."

"True."

"You were excited for New Orleans, I figured this way you can enjoy the city, and avoid my sister. It's win-win. Remember the lengths you went to in order to avoid that anniversary party she had at her place."

House chuckled, "That was freakin' brilliance."

"Yea," she answered wryly. "I'm handing you an out on a silver platter."

"I'm seeing someone with a kid, that kid needs our attention, so I'll go," he answered dutifully.

"You don't have to."

"I can do this."

"I know you _can._"

"I want to. For you, for her…and maybe a little bit for me…let me prove it. Unless you really don't want to tell Julia about us."

"I'm fine with it," Cuddy said matter-of-factly. "I'd rather have you with me. I really don't care what she thinks about this. Honestly. A little over two weeks ago, you weren't really obligated to anyone or anything…not _really_. Now I know how you feel about me, and I know how you feel about Rachel…and I completely believe you. But suddenly you're pushed into the role of accompanying me to Julia's. That's…a lot to ask."

"No, it isn't," he answered evenly.

"It will be interesting to see Julia's reaction." Cuddy answered. "You sure?"

"Absolutely. Besides, I'm…I'm ready to see Rachel."

Cuddy called and made airline reservations from New Orleans to New Jersey. When she hung up she said, "You know, Julia was suspicious every time I went to a benefit, or had a Friday evening out for _years_. At first, she was constantly concerned that I'd have a 'relapse of love-sick stupidity' as she liked to call it. She was convinced that you were going to pop up in my life and I constantly defended myself. She finally believed me when she met Paul, because, at first, she thought I made up Paul as a cover."

"So you finally convinced her and now…"

"Essentially, I'm proving her right. I don't care, I just don't care anymore."

She smiled appreciatively at him. He added, "I _am _keeping score though, and I hope you remember me going to her house with you when our doubles jello-wrestling tourney's in town and I _need _you."

She scoffed and when her eyes met his, and she saw the way he was looking her over, she remembered that she was still standing naked in front of him. House was sitting in his boxers on the edge of the bed, but she could easily see his scarred and gnarled thigh that he made little to no attempt to cover up anymore, and she barely even noticed, except during the moments when she realized how mutually vulnerable they were.

He pulled her closer and she hesitated, "My daughter's been in an accident…not the world's greatest aphrodisiac."

"She's not in a coma on life support…she broke her leg."

"I remember the first time I snuck out," Cuddy said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "That's my secret today. The first time I snuck out, I met a guy from school. It was completely innocent."

"Innocent? He must have been really disappointed about that," House said, his eyes jovially meeting hers.

"Maybe," she laughed. "We walked around the block a couple of times. Held hands. And I went back home."

"No kiss?"

"I was eleven! No kiss."

"Eleven and you were sneaking out?"

"I know! I didn't even get caught, and I felt so guilty I didn't do it again until I was sixteen. What about you, tell me about when you first snuck out of your parent's house."

House's posture stiffened, and she thought he wasn't going to answer. "You can tell me something else," she shifted immediately.

House's voice was soft and deep as he whispered. "My dad and I had a disagreement that ended poorly for me. I decided I was going to leave. I had no plan but _leave_. He found me an hour later and _convinced _me that I shouldn't leave again."

"House," she said softly, holding him a bit tighter, and cautiously tempering the sadness she felt on his behalf. "I shouldn't have asked that…it was a stupid question."

"Wasn't a stupid question. You didn't know what the answer was going to be."

There were a few tense moments, but she felt House relaxing into her again. There was a bond that formed because of that disclosure. Her need to protect him, to nurture and care for him, reached an unprecedented level. His ability to trust her, and to accept her nurturing without hesitation, blossomed exponentially. They each found themselves more interconnected than they were before, bound through their disclosures, experiences and deep mutual concern.

They relaxed into the bed together in silence, until he couldn't stand the sound of nothingness anymore. "Look," he said, "Rachel's leg may be broken, and we are getting to her as quickly as we can, but we can't do anything about it _now_, unless you want to jump overboard and start swimming. Besides, I need a round of encouragement sex…a reward for my efforts to deal with your hideously ugly, stupid sister."

She chuckled when his lips found her collarbone. "I guess one more time before we go…" she said breathily.

"One more time? We don't leave the boat until _tomorrow_," he whined with a grin. "You're going frigid on me already?"

"Obviously," she said as she slipped her hand into his boxers and listened to the change in his breath.

The last thing they needed was sex, their bodies were tired and physical needs long sated, but they always craved the connection. They were talking, better than they ever had before, but they still always struggled to find ways to ease the need for each other that had accumulated over a lifetime. They still felt as if they needed an excuse for the closeness and intimacy. That, coupled with the fact that they were constantly attracted to each other, lead to their nearly insatiable appetites. Passion, and affection, were so much easier when hidden in physical intimacy. They knew they'd soon have to temper their need with reality, with work and family waiting right around the corner. When they woke, they could see land and for some reason, they felt somewhat eager to try reality on for size.


	22. Crescent Cities and Garden States

_A/N-thanks so much to the readers and reviewers since the last time: housebound, Josam, Alltheloveintheworld, lenasti16, precioussoulandsweetcheeksii n1, JLCH, Truth, IHeartHouseCuddy, jaybe61, OldSFfan, LiaHuddy, partypantscuddy, dmarchl21, CaptainK8, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, Hols14hl, LoveMyHouse, mimine666, IWuvHouse, Suzieqlondon, ClareBear14, LapizSilkwood, Little Greg, Mon Fogel and the Guest Reviewers._

* * *

_-Day 16-Saturday-Morning-_

With their things packed and ready, House and Cuddy made sure both rooms were emptied of their belongings, and went to the guest services desk to pick up the package of pictures from their excursions. They were discussing Rachel's interest in music as they waited in line. When they reached the front, the man behind the counter said, "Name?"

"Lisa Cuddy," she said, interrupting their discussion only long enough to mutter her own name before continuing.

"Lisa Cuddy?" the attendant clarified. "You aren't on the list of honeymooners."

"Blackburn," House interjected, "Will Blackburn."

"I'll get to you in a minute," the attendant said, "Let me help this lady."

"I'm with him," she said.

The attendant looked down at the Blackburn's package, and peered quizzically at the photo on the front. "Wait, this says your wife's name is Felicity. Who's Lisa Cuddy?" he asked.

"It's a long story," House answered.

"Where's your wife?" the attendant asked with loud surprise, then whispered, "Are you on your honeymoon with another _woman_?"

House shrugged, unconcerned.

The attendant blushed and shook his head with disbelief.

"After the wedding, Felicity got boring," House answered, "It's true, marriage kills your sex life. So I picked up what's-her-name here."

Cuddy smile at the attendant politely.

"Wait," House said, whispering loudly, "What _is _your name?"

Cuddy smiled again while the attendant said, as if he were communicating a secret to help an old friend out of a bind with a girl, "She's Lisa."

"That's right!" House exclaimed. Then House whispered back to the attendant, "Thanks, it's hard to keep them all straight."

The attendant looked at House with a mixture of awe, respect and disgust, while he watched the older man pull Cuddy close to his side, "Right? Leee-sa?"

They left their luggage at the counter for the baggage transfer service, so that it would be delivered to the airport. Cuddy took the package of items from the attendant, shoved it into House's backpack, and offered her thanks before walking away. House grimaced, realizing that he probably overstepped his joke, and waited to discover the depths of her disapproval. He was surprised to find her with a pleasant, although disbelieving, smirk on her face. "You are a _little_ insane," she giggled.

"You're the one taking me home."

"Because…I'm a little insane too."

They were standing in line, waiting to get off of the boat one last time, and she saw him fidgeting with his passport. "Do you have _two_ passports?" she asked.

"Umm…yes."

"Why?"

"Well how did you think I was getting back on the boat at those checkpoints? Lisa Cuddy was a registered passenger on the boat, Greg House…well I never was quite sure if he was _really_ official."

She took the passports out of his hand. "Did you steal Will Blackburn's passport?" she asked with utter disbelief.

"No," he said, definitively.

"OK," she said, choosing to accept his answer without pursuing any more information.

House volunteered more information, confused that she wasn't pressing him for it. "I bought it from him…and then…updated it a bit."

"Updated it?" she asked as she looked at House's picture next to Will's name.

"You can find people to 'update' those things if you know where to look. Particularly near the airport."

"I'm sure you can," Cuddy nodded.

They stood in silence, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful, silence. When they stepped off of the boat, he pulled her away from the crowd. "When everything happened, the day I left, I was just focused on getting out there. Legal or illegal seemed very unimportant. Will was in a desperate and giving mood. And he told me that next week he's going to report it stolen, I had until then. I just…had to get out of there. How didn't matter."

She smiled, "I'm not saying anything, House."

"OK," he responded, still suspicious about the fact that she seemed deep in thought. "You're mad?"

"No, not at all. Actually, I was just thinking that what you did was a lot healthier than returning to Vicodin."

"Oh," he answered, looking taken aback.

"Is that OK, or are you hoping for an argument within the first five minutes of setting foot on US soil?" she asked, stepping closer flirtatiously.

He chuckled, "Not at all."

They gathered the few belongings they were still carrying with them, and Cuddy got out their flight itineraries. "What time does our flight leave?" he asked.

"Not for a few hours. Sorry, we have some time to kill. It was the first flight I could get."

"Perfect, there's something I want to do before we go!" he said cheerily.

* * *

When they walked into the nearby bar, nestled only a few blocks from the port and the convention center, Cuddy knew exactly where they were. She heard the story once from House, and one night while they were hanging out with Wilson, there was a particularly animated and somewhat intoxicated retelling of the day that House and Wilson met. "Looks a lot different," House noted absently as he observed the space. The bar was still nicer than most of the dives House would have preferred to frequent, but certainly not uncomfortably upscale.

House swirled his drink in his glass and said, "Apparently someone decided it really was time to 'leave a tender moment alone.' If they would have gotten rid of the jukebox years ago, who knows what would have happened to all of us."

Cuddy smiled at the reference to the song that was played repeatedly until it pushed Wilson over the edge years earlier, and led to Wilson and House's friendship. "I love that you're the one with a bad reputation, but when you met, _you_ bailed _him_ out. I wish we could have told that story at a board meeting. Poor Wilson, all horrified and embarrassed."

"No one would have believed you."

"Probably not," she answered.

They spoke little while they were there, enjoying their drinks, and enjoying the company. She could see House playing the movie in his memory. He thought about how different the patrons looked from decades earlier, when he first met Wilson, the way the bar had changed, the way he had changed. He was so different from his younger, less weary self, but he had a working leg again, just as he did the first time he was there. He also finally had Cuddy by his side. So very much had happened in between trips to that bar, but there were things in his life that were good in the present.

When they were finished with their drinks, House suggested they get a taxi to the airport and they left the bar. Cuddy was standing outside, looking down at her phone for the time, and noticed House's continued silence. She asked him the question, 'are you OK?' with her expression, wordlessly, and he urgently pulled her into the alleyway. Initially, she assumed he was joking, or maybe trying to sneak an intimate moment, but the look on his face clearly communicated otherwise. It was as if all of the grief and pain that he managed to suppress from the loss of Wilson was finally reaching him in that moment.

All of the pain of that loss that he stuffed so deep down inside that he thought it would never resurface, surfaced. When House was truly devastated, he found it easier to react with anger, madness or indulgence. When Wilson died, he reacted with none of those things, opting to do whatever was necessary to survive, trying not to lose his connection with reality. He never really allowed himself to break down, to feel the depths of his sadness, because that loss of control was potentially dangerous for him. When Wilson died, House was alone.

Standing in the alleyway with Cuddy, he knew he was safe. He knew he could feel the anger, the sadness, the real loss, and that he finally had something, someone, to keep him grounded without derision or judgment. He leaned down, burying his face against her neck, and he allowed his sorrow to emerge from him. She patted his back subtly, affectionately, with one hand, the other holding his head to her. She was everything he needed in that moment: loving, strong, non-judgmental, and calmly present. He was fully open to receiving those things from her, and she was fully open to giving them. Such overt sharing of emotional give and take was still new to them, possible only after they finally felt safe enough to remove the walls between them.

He let down all of his barriers, feeling the depths of this sadness without Vicodin, without marijuana, with only one drink in his system. It was real, and painful, and as he felt it coursing through him, consuming his mind, he began to transfer his thoughts to the comfort being provided, and realized that while his sorrow was real, and deep, there was something beyond it. There was an _after the sorrow_.

It was hot there in that alley, the weather in New Orleans oppressively warm and thickly humid, but the conditions did nothing to dissuade their contact. They stood there for a long time, and when House lifted his head, his sadness was replaced with a weak but genuine smile. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Anytime," she whispered back with heart-felt sincerity.

The next few hours went by more quickly than they expected, their flight uneventful, as they realized that soon they'd be in the presence of Rachel and Julia, and actually in New Jersey. They'd be back in the same state where they worked together, near the places where they loved, and fucked, and argued, and avoided, where they'd traded a thousand transgressions before she broke his heart and he destroyed her home. They wanted reality, but that suddenly felt like far too much of it.

When they landed, it was like walking amongst ghosts. They had been in that airport before, together. Cuddy rented a car, and they drove to Julia's. "It's not too late to turn back," she said, "are you completely sure you are willing to do this."

"Yup," he answered calmly.

"OK," she said as she pulled into the driveway. It was late, nearly ten at night, the lights inside Julia's were on, and the place looked deceptively welcoming from the outside.

They stepped out of the cool, air-conditioned comfort of the car, and walked toward the door. The air in Jersey wasn't much more temperate than the tropics that night, and Cuddy was unsure if it was difficult to breathe because of her nervousness, or because of the soupy humidity that surrounded them. She knocked a few times on the door, took House's hand in her own, and waited.

Julia opened the door, her expression initially overjoyed as she welcomed her sister, and then it faded. Like her sister, Julia had an expressive face. "We're here!" Cuddy said.

Julia's expression, clear as it was, went from joy, to confusion, to accusation, to utter disbelief, and then absolute rage. Then it went completely blank. Julia put her hands down at her sides, and stepped away from the door, leaving it open, and walking out of the room entirely. Since the door wasn't slammed in their faces, Cuddy assumed they were invited inside. "Of all of the things I expected from her, complete silence wasn't one of them. I wonder what that means," Cuddy said to House.

She turned, and saw her daughter on the sofa, and went immediately to hug her. Logan was sitting at the other end of the sofa and said, snidely, "When she doesn't say anything, it means you are in shitloads of trouble."

"Logan!" they heard Julia loudly reprimand from the kitchen.

The teen grinned widely in full smart-assed fashion.

House watched Cuddy's reaction to her child, hugging the girl, telling her how much she missed her, looking perfectly maternal and natural in the role of parent. He had to admit that part of him expected her to chide Rachel for her reckless acts first before greeting her, but there wasn't even a hint of disapproval from Cuddy.

When they broke from the hug, Rachel looked at House, standing up from her seated position on the sofa after grabbing her crutches in one hand. House took two steps toward Rachel, and he saw the kid, who tried to look completely nonchalant, tilt her head in confusion when she realized that he was walking and had no cane. Rachel was so distracted by this breach in expectation that she took a step forward toward him, without slipping the crutches under her arms, without thinking about her injury, and collapsed onto the ground. House took three long steps toward Rachel, who found herself unexpectedly sitting on the carpet, and he reached down and easily picked the wiry girl up from her spot.

Cuddy handed Rachel the crutches, and Rachel remembered her predicament. "In my memory, you had a cane," she said, "did I make that up or was that just…a fashion thing?"

House laughed, louder than he expected to, "It wasn't a fashion thing. It was a not falling on my ass thing."

"You're better?"

"Yea, pretty much," he answered, "Better enough to walk across the room without turfing it."

Rachel smiled shyly. House was shocked by the girl standing in front of him. Although she was only twelve, she bared little resemblance to a child. She was just a bit taller than Cuddy, slender and fit, and quite pretty. Her hair was dark, straight and long, her eyes an inquisitive blue, and she actually looked a good bit like their biological child could have looked if they would have taken a different path so many years earlier. "That was sort of embarrassing," she commented.

"You puked on me before, twice, and you peed all over my favorite tee shirt one time when you were sleeping. Just falling, that's no big deal," he answered.

"Wait!" Logan interrupted, "You're the psycho cane guy?"

House squinted contemplatively at Julia's son, trying to think of a better moniker. "I _was_ psycho cane guy," House answered. "Now I'm trying for a new rep as slightly quirky, more able-bodied guy."

"I thought mom was just irritated that Aunt Lisa brought home some strange," Logan replied.

Cuddy gaped at Logan, surprised by his response and stepping back when Julia came flying into the room, "Room!" she said, pointing at Logan. "Go now!"

Logan trodded out of the room, and Julia said to Rachel, "Why don't you give us a few minutes to talk, take Dr. House to the kitchen?"

Rachel looked at House, then at Cuddy, waiting to see what they expected her to do, then realized House was looking at Cuddy in the same questioning way. "Rachel, can you give us just two minutes, please," Cuddy asked.

Rachel nodded and hobbled on her crutches, trying to get a feel for learning to walk with them.

House strode over to her, "They always make the cripples leave the room," he joked with her, "All those able legs, and they want _you _to leave and give _them _some space."

Rachel smiled at him as they went out to the dining room and he helped her to a chair at the table. Before she sat down, she quickly threw her arms around his waist, letting go of the hug just as quickly as she initiated it. It was swift, but heart-felt, and House gave her a confused smile. Rachel said, trying to deflect away from her display of welcoming, "Better go make sure Mom's OK."

House nodded and walked back to the living room catching Julia mid-rant, "You will not take my niece home with him. I'll accept that you may want to indulge your own sickness. Is it worth it…for sex? Endangering your daughter is self-indulgent and irresponsible."

"You obviously haven't had really good sex in a while," House said, walking to Cuddy's side.

"You offering?" Julia spat. "You probably are a cheating bastard to boot. I…don't care about you. I care about Rachel and Lisa, and they need someone with an ounce of sense to make sure they don't end up _homeless_ or worse…"

Julia ranted at Cuddy for the better part of the next two minutes. House knew this, because he was staring at the clock behind her head, trying not to tell Julia exactly how incorrect so many of her points were, but Cuddy had one hand against his forearm. Her hand wasn't directorial or demanding, it was pleading. She was making a request.

When Cuddy found a break in Julia's lecture, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Thank you for watching Rachel so I could take a break. I really needed to get away," Cuddy said, appreciatively.

Julia looked shocked, her sister's redirection of her anger throwing her off balance. House has seen her do that very thing hundreds of times at the hospital, often over arguments involving him. When donors would threaten to pull donations based on his behavior or hearsay, when families threatened malpractice suits, she was so good at diffusing their anger. It didn't work every time, but her administrative diplomacy often saved the hospital, and House. Cuddy was in full on ambassador mode.

"You're welcome," Julia stuttered.

"I also appreciate the number of times you were there for me when things went wrong in my relationships before. That's part of what sucks about being a confidant. When things went wrong, when there were breakups and heartbreaks and outbursts, you heard about those things. I never called you to tell you about all of the little sweet moments…or even the bigger sweet moments. I know it seems crazy, I'm in love, and so is he, and we're trying. We are a little insane, and probably a bit stupid, but this is what I need, and I hope it's what he needs too. We've learned from our mistakes. And we've made…a lot…of mistakes. But that just gives us all the more experience to grow from. House and I are…well-researched to say the least. Lots of trial and error, lots of history. Nothing that you can say will dissuade me from what I've learned, or make me any less adamant about my need to have him in my life."

Julia looked at her sister, then at House. "What kind of drugs are you on that are allowing you to walk?"

"Muscle regeneration drugs are responsible for most of my renewed cane-free swagger," House answered.

"And how much…morphine or Vicodin or…fucking heroin are you on?"

House shook his head 'no' and lifted his gaze to meet hers directly. "I'm not. I'm not in constant, agonizing pain anymore."

"And if Lisa breaks up with you?"

House's eyes shut for a second in contemplation, and there was the tiniest dismissal, and quick shake of his head, and Cuddy interrupted, "I'm not breaking up with him."

"_If_ you do?"

"I will be…devastated," House said, offering a shot of honesty that was as shocking and disarming as Cuddy's earlier redirection of Julia's anger. "Honestly, if I was completely certain that there was no chance of reconciliation, I'd probably run, as fast as I could, _away_ from her."

Julia stared at him, still in awe of what seemed like a very open response. She was about to say something that House was certain he didn't want to hear. It didn't look like a negative comment, it looked more like a comment about how he'd changed or something about feelings, so he quickly joked, "And this…is the first place I'd come!" he said jovially. "Julia, you and I could finally give this whole…crazy thing between us a go. I know how much you want me. Who wouldn't, right? With your sister out of the way, who knows?"

"God, you are such a pig!" Julia retorted, but couldn't entirely mask the small giggle in her voice at his absolute audacity. Cuddy and House together, completely diffused the ticking time bomb that was Julia's judgment and ire.

House smiled subtly at Julia. "I still think this is a mistake," Julia clarified. "Don't hurt my niece. She doesn't get to make a choice in this matter."

"If I did have a choice, it would be the same as Mom's," Rachel chimed in from the archway into the living room. "It's been more than two minutes," Rachel said in defense of her appearance in the room.

"Rachel these things are complicated," Julia answered.

"Not really," Rachel said, shrugging while leaning on her crutches. "Mom looks good. Happy. She sounds happy. So maybe what makes her happy seems stupid. It's like you…sewing. I don't get it, I don't see how that could possibly be fun. But, you like it, and sometimes, I get the world's coolest Halloween costume, or those cross-bone sheets you made for me when I was a little kid. So really, no matter how lame _I_ think your way of spending time is, sometimes really cool things come from it."

House beamed at the girl's use of metaphor, and hoped that somehow, he had planted that seed almost a decade earlier. "Smart kid," House said.

Cuddy looked like she had a tear in her eye, and went over and hugged Rachel. "I wouldn't do anything if I thought it was going to hurt you."

"I know," Rachel agreed. "Plus, I'm really hoping that you see how mature I am, and how accepting I am of you…and you make a decision in my favor, allowing me to go with Tim and his family on that camping trip."

"NO!" House pleaded.

Rachel initially thought he was taking a very paternal role, or defending her mother, shooting down her request, and she was a little surprised that he would so easily step into the firm parent role. "You were so close, kid!" House shook his head, putting a hand to his forehead.

"You have so much to learn," he went on, not reprimanding her, but coaching. "You should have just done the mature thing, said what you said, and then let it sit and roll around in her head. Let Cuddy…let your mom…connect the dots on her own. She didn't need you to make that connection for her. Your mom's a thinker. She will think, and rethink, and over think a moment like that non-stop, and come to that conclusion on her own. Your mom likes to do what's right, reward good behavior…she tries to insert her own sense of justice into a fundamentally unjust world. You totally had her. And then you kept talking."

"I wasn't just trying to get what I want. I was honest."

"I know," House said, "because you're smart enough to know that your mother will see right through you if you aren't genuine. You have the basics, you just have to_ fine tune_."

He turned and saw Cuddy, arms folded across her belly, head tilted with amusement. He smiled at her, saying, "Apparently Rachel isn't the only one who needs to figure out when to stop talking."

"Good Luck, Lisa," Julia said, not unkindly. "You…are gonna need it."

Cuddy smiled, "Get your stuff together Rach, we have a very early flight tomorrow. I'm ready to get home."


	23. Where the Buffalo Roam

_A/N-Thanks so much to all of the readers and the reviewers since the last chapter: partypantscuddy, Nyo, Bakerstreet Blues, OldSFfan, Alltheloveintheworld, JLCH, Guesto, justlobe, IHeartHouseCuddy, lenasti16, ClareBear14, IWuvHouse, Zaydasky, CaptainK8, Suzieqlondon, Alex, Abby, HuddyGirl, dmarchl21, LoveMyHouse, devonfc, Tomken, itzaboo and the anonymous guest reviewers._

_*This chapter includes adult content._

* * *

_-Day 17-Sunday-12am-_

Julia and Cuddy caught up for a few minutes in the living room, and House went with Rachel to help her get her things together. House sat in a desk chair while Rachel looked through her open suitcase. He reached into his pocket, hesitating for a moment, but, after taking a deep breath, he pulled a horribly frayed and tattered bracelet from his pocket and approached Rachel. He held it out, dangling it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Rachel looked up from her luggage and saw the bracelet, lifting her eyes to House's for a moment and then back down to the object in his hand. He jiggled the item toward her, a gesture welcoming her to take it.

She took it and smiled, he could tell she recognized the item instantly. "You kept it?"

"Remember when we got them?" he asked, scratching at the back of his head nervously.

She nodded. She positioned her crutches more firmly under her arms and went to the desk. She opened the front zipper pocket of her backpack, and pulled out her keys. Tied to them, next to a myriad other key chains and very few keys, was a similar bracelet. She unhooked it from the set and held it out to him. A subtle grin settled across his face as he took it. She tied the one he had given her onto her keys, and went back to her suitcase where he still stood. Both touched by the gesture, but neither knowing what to say, they stood in near silence. Mercifully, seconds later, Logan crept through the door.

Logan was witty and rebellious, his sense of humor making the ways he tormented his mother somewhat amusing for everyone around him, although likely not very amusing for Julia. House noticed Logan watching him, and the teen finally said, "I'd just really like to shake the hand of the man who actually got so pissed off that he ran his car into a house. That takes some serious balls!" Logan bragged. "I wish I could have seen my mom's face. What was it like?"

House was looking at Rachel, hoping the girl wasn't going to suddenly rethink her position on his involvement in her home life. "Not a moment that I look back on fondly. More like…driving the final nail in my coffin."

House watched as Logan's self-assured expression slipped from his face, the need to appear cool suddenly less urgent as he gave a look that seemed almost respectful with decidedly less bravado. Cuddy walked in, joining the group and closing the door behind her. "Alright guys, spill it," she challenged, "I want to know. Why were you sneaking out?"

Rachel and Logan both almost immediately avoided Cuddy's gaze, and both House and Cuddy were instantly intrigued by the mystery. "OK," Cuddy answered the silence, "You stole a bottle from Julia's liquor cabinet? Found cigarettes? Friend had a party?"

Logan and Rachel looked at each other, trying to decide if they wanted to explain their behavior.

"Was it drugs? Were you meeting up with other kids?" Cuddy asked softly, still receiving no response. "Rachel, you know the deal. If you come clean with it, I'm going to go a lot easier on you than if you don't. I'll find out what happened some time down the line…I always do. Or should I just…assume the worst? Whatever it is…I'd rather hear it from you."

Logan nodded at Rachel and the girl finally spoke. "It isn't drugs or a party…or…anything like that."

"OK," Cuddy said calmly.

"It…we…" Rachel looked nervous, "Just promise you won't mention it to anyone."

Cuddy nodded, suddenly wondering if she wanted to hear the answer or remain blissfully ignorant, "Of course I won't tell anyone."

"We wanted to walk out of the development, go about two miles down the road, out of the streetlights…so…we could watch the meteor showers."

Rachel's regretful look was enough to tell Cuddy that Rachel's claim was the truth. Cuddy smiled, almost laughing with relief that her daughter wasn't engaging in more frightening behavior at such a young age. "Why are you embarrassed about _that?_"

"We snuck out. To look at _meteors_, Mom."

"I really did understand you the first time," Cuddy retorted.

"What kind of dork…sneaks out of the house and stares at the freakin' sky? I _should be_ stealing Aunt Julia's booze or smoking or hooking up with guys. I'm hanging out…in the suburbs…with my cousin…_stargazing_. Everyone already thinks I'm a nerd…this would be all of the proof they'd need. "

"I could have gotten us beer," Logan retrospectively offered, "To take along."

"We couldn't manage to sneak out sober, you tard," Rachel countered.

Cuddy smiled. "Don't look at me approvingly," Rachel argued.

"That isn't approval," Cuddy said sternly, "It's relief. You still left without permission, and could have been hurt so much worse. When we get home, you're still getting punished."

"For looking at stars?" Rachel said, suddenly hoping for her mother's approval on the matter again.

"No, not for looking at stars, for sneaking out. Doesn't matter what you were _trying_ to do. The problem is what you _did _do."

"Why not just ask your mom if you could go?" House asked Logan.

"She never lets me do anything!" Logan answered. "It's like prison."

"The sixty inch TV, private bathrooms and obvious lack of a hulking man with some completely terrifying tattoos on his _face_ …are but a few obvious signs that this is _not_ like prison," House responded.

"I don't know why she's so hard on me. My sisters do whatever they want."

"Perhaps you should try not pissing your mother off," House offered.

"You seem to like it when I piss off my mother," Logan responded.

"Oh, it's great to watch. For me. But she doesn't set _my_ curfew."

Logan shrugged, looking at House quizzically.

A short while later, Logan left for his own room, and House nodded and waved a goodnight, and Cuddy and Rachel were alone. The two of them remained in the room, gathering Rachel's things, and saving one outfit and the needed supplies for the morning.

"This is kind of weird, isn't it?" Rachel said.

"I guess a bit," Cuddy said. "It's both weird and yet…it seems perfectly normal."

"Yea," Rachel said, smiling. "I really want to go home."

"Me too," Cuddy nodded. "In a few hours."

They wished each other goodnight, and Cuddy found House standing in the living room talking to Julia's husband. "Hey, Joe," Cuddy said, greeting her brother-in-law with a kiss on the cheek. Joe seemed completely unsurprised that House was standing in front of him. The exchange between the two men wasn't unfriendly, nor was it overly welcoming. Joe had just returned from a crisis at work, and looked exhausted, perhaps too tired to really question why House was there. Julia came in, and roughly pushed a few blankets against House's chest. "Sofa's yours," she said to House, "Lisa, you can take Becca's room, she's not here this week."

"Julia! You're kidding?" Joe said, "Is this a not-under-my-roof moment?"

Julia turned and shot the hateful Cuddy-woman stare at her husband, "It's an I-don't-want-a-dirty-old-man-in-my-innocent-daughter's-bed moment."

House smirked a bit, noting the familiarity of the scowl, but also noting that his Cuddy didn't seem to wield it against him anymore, although he was certain she still had it in her arsenal for those times when no other scowl would do. "Julia," Cuddy said with an veiled undertone of admonishment, "You're…being…" Cuddy looked at her and shrugged. "It's only five hours until we have to be up anyway, I'll take the chair, House can have the sofa. I'm not going to sit and argue, I'm exhausted."

Cuddy flopped into the recliner with one of the blankets, flipped out the footrest and spoke her goodnight.

Julia and Joe left the room, replying their good nights, and House leaned back into the sofa. "Cuddy," he whispered loudly.

"Yea."

"I think your sister wants my body. Don't leave me alone with her. I fear for my innocence."

He could see Cuddy's shoulders twitch with a giggle. "I'm pretty sure she wants your body for _something,_ although I'm thinking it may not be as pleasant a purpose as you think."

"The chains again?"

"Perhaps…if she's less pissed off than she is now."

"Sweet, then make yourself scarce," he teased.

"Secret," she offered, sitting up, and he nodded. "My sister did win over one of my men once."

"What?"

"Oh yea. I mean, it wasn't a big thing. It wasn't like I was in love or anything. It was high school. He was between our ages. Ridiculously cute."

"You have _got _to be kidding me. Nobody would choose that woman over you."

"She was so much cuter than I was in when we were teenagers, thinner, less nerdy."

"Impossible…except for the nerdy part. I'm pretty confident that you were the nerdier sister."

Cuddy got up and walked over to an antique sideboard, opened one of the compartments, and pulled out a photo album.

"You…are going to show me these?" he asked.

"Sure, why not," Cuddy answered as she sat down next to him on the sofa.

"Because you guarded this kind of shit like Area 51 before. Why now?"

"I don't know. You don't wanna see?"

"Yea _that's_ it, because I'm never curious about anything," he answered sarcastically.

She opened the book and tapped her finger on a picture of her at high school graduation.

"That was only a few months before I met you. Must have been," House said, tracing his finger along her image. "You changed your hair, didn't you? Definitely dressed sluttier in college."

"It's hard to wear a graduation gown in a provocative way," she chuckled.

"If anyone could do it, it would be you. Did you keep the gown? When we get home you could try it, I'll be happy to make suggestions."

"I'm sure you would be."

He stopped and stared ahead, contemplatively.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No. Not the time to stop talking," she argued. "That's the secret I want you to tell me. I want you to tell me what you are thinking right now."

"Cuddy," he protested, then sat back, rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm tired."

"OK," she said, accepting the deflection and looking through the pictures.

He sighed and decided that he should trust her with the answer, "I have no home. I spent my childhood being flung all over the world and dropped in new places without any say as to location. It was sometimes good, but usually very…destabilizing. Once I settled in my old apartment, I swore I'd never leave. I tried to change absolutely nothing. Then, after Mayfield, and again after you and I split, and even more so after Wilson died, I spent the next few years, without really having a home. I don't have a roof, I don't even have my own bed."

"You have a home."

He nodded, the sincerity of her words making them feel too overwhelming to respond to. "At no point was your sister ever hotter than you," he commented, avoiding her response.

"Thanks."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You were a cuter teenager," he mumbled. He kissed her jaw, "Obviously smarter," he turned her face toward him and kissed her chin, "You have much better taste in men."

"Clearly."

"And I'm sure you taste better too," he said, kissing her lips fully, slipping his tongue along her lower lip. "You are clearly more beautiful as an adult as well, and successful," he said before deepening the kiss.

She breathed out a near moan, her hand finding his jaw while she reciprocated the attention. "Believe me, I'm not jealous of her," Cuddy said, pulling away a hairsbreadth.

"I'm sure you aren't, you have no reason to be," he whispered against her lips, his hand sliding along her waist and eventually resting on her hip.

"We shouldn't do this," she said to him.

"It's a kiss, Cuddy, relax. Perfectly legal in most states," he smiled at her before directing her face closer to his, gently capturing her lips before he returned a pleasured sigh.

"I missed this," she muttered between kisses.

"I'm sure you found other men to keep you warm while I was gone," he said, his voice teasing but low from the almost immediate desire she brought out in him.

"I mean…since this morning," she said waiting, for him to mock her.

"Me too," he said, one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing softly between her jaw line and neck.

Their attraction, as magnetic as anything between people could possibly be, their kisses always made them want more, the same way sex made them want more, or talking, or a longing look, everything about the other made them want more. So easily, such need could lead to the destruction of a weaker person in a relationship, but the needing, the giving, the exchange, managed to feed them both, an equal degree of giving and taking allowing a balance so neither one was consumed to extinction.

Their kiss deepened, hands remaining in approved place, on backs, necks, faces, hips, but the pawing still communicating ample desire. Cuddy maneuvered a leg gracefully over him, so she was straddling his lap, and his hands immediately found her ass, as if that move was an inevitable response to the weight of her on him. His hands were firmly against her, occasionally travelling up the length of her back to her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, his hands strong and demanding against her.

Her hips rocked just the slightest bit forward, involuntarily, their bodies on autopilot, and his hands tightly gripped her and pulled her to him as his own pelvis lifted. His mouth found her neck and her head tipped back, her eyes opening for a second, just long enough to see pictures hanging on the wall behind the sofa that reminded her that they weren't at home or on the ship. They were in the living room at her sister's. "Can't here," she said, rocking her hips forward slowly and steadily, because although she knew she shouldn't be doing what she was doing, her body still desperately wanted to do it.

"OK," he said, initially, until he felt his body reacting as involuntarily as hers, pushing up toward her, wishing there wasn't layer upon layer of clothing between them and that his erection was finally pushing into the warmth and comfort of her body. The dynamic of wanting but not having her was so familiar. All of those years he wanted her, and she was so near, but now that she was actually on him, he could almost feel her wetness on his body. Her breasts were pushing against his chest, clothed, but he could imagine the softness of the flesh there against his bare chest, tightly peaked nipples brushing against him while she would move. His desire was almost too much to tolerate and his imagination was already feeling her touches, hearing her sounds, seeing the beautiful sight of her coming apart.

She sat back, remaining on his lap, still unable to break their contact completely. "I want you so fucking bad, House. I want you against me, in me, fucking me. It feels like it's been…"

"Forever," he finished.

"But anyone could come out here…and I really don't want to get caught by anyone in this house," she said, standing up.

"We gonna ask Julia to borrow her room for a minute?"

"A minute?"

"Sure, that's about all _I'll_ need, after that, you're on your own," he teased.

"Come on," she said, leading him through the kitchen to the back door.

"Where are we going?"

"Like you care."

"I don't. You do."

She made sure the door was unlocked, twice, and took him into the back yard, gliding gracefully along the cement surrounding a large in-ground pool, and to a shed at the far end. Cuddy attempted the door knob, found it unlocked and smiled. She pulled him into the shed, pulling a string hanging from above to click on a single overhead bulb.

House looked at the large pump and filter for the pool, housed within the shed, and the shelves of chemicals along one wall. Feigning ignorance he pointed at the pump, "Now _that's _a vibrator!"

She smiled only for a second, her lips eagerly finding his, her hands going to his shirt, breaking their kiss for a moment to pull the first article of clothing away from him and letting her hands slide across his chest and stomach. The shed was still hot from the earlier heat of the day, but as much as the heat in New Orleans went unnoticed during a moment of emotional need, the heat of a balmy summer night in Jersey was equally irrelevant. She grabbed beach towels and a blanket from the shelves and spread the blanket out on the small open section of concrete. "In here?" he asked.

"If you don't like it..." Cuddy said as she quickly stepped outside.

"Wait," he almost whined, concerned that she decided to forego their moment altogether.

"You're right, not much room," she smirked. She dodged back inside for the blanket and spread it on the narrow patch of grass between the shed and a tall privacy fence.

"You're kidding?" he grinned.

Once she closed the door to the shed, it was too dark to see his features, but she could hear the hint of giddiness in his voice. He felt her one arm wrap around his bare torso and her breasts press, clothed, against his chest. She pulled him down onto the blanket on the grass. It was pitch black in that spot behind the shed, and they couldn't see much of anything, which provided cover from discovery, but also made the next touch, the next move, all the more unknown and exciting. He tried to pull her shirt off and she said, quickly, "Keeping it on." Her lips moving across his stubble as her hands worked his belt, button and fly, and her hands were in his pants making sure his body was as eager and ready for their encounter as his mind was.

He helped her out of her shorts and peeled her panties away from her body while she stood up to help him in removing the items, and then she helped rid him of his own jeans and boxers. She sat back down on his lap but not close enough to his erection. He was breathing so heavily she could hear it, and feel it, and she wanted to take that need and bring him the ecstasy she knew his body was seeking.

His fingers sought out her warmth and she pushed his hand away. He asked, "You sure you're…"

She immediately scooted forward and pressed her hips down against him, allowing him in her, allowing their connection. They both groaned softly, "I'm sure I'm ready," she smirked, taking his face and kissing him.

He shoved her shirt up, unsnapping her bra and pushing it away from her breasts without fully removing it, and finding a nipple easily with his mouth, even in the dark. He sucked roughly on her breast, listening to the resultant moan and more forceful downward thrust of her hips. "Can't believe you're doing this…here," he barely managed while his mouth found her other breast.

"You fucked me in the jungle…in a library…you thought about fucking me in the ocean."

"I _think_ about fucking you everywhere," he answered while his hands went to her ass to help her maintain the perfect rhythm she was creating for them.

"I need you," she stutter spoke.

"You have me."

"I needed you like this. You feel…you are the best feeling."

He moaned quietly, "Only me?"

"Yea, only you feel like this," she muttered.

"I mean, I want you to do this…with only me."

"OK," she offered easily, her breath panting against his ear. "Is that agreement mutual?"

"Can't even think about another woman when I can have you," he answered, losing himself in her completely for a few moments. "I want these just for me," he said finally, palming a breast.

"OK," she said, the pitch of her voice raising a bit.

"This too," he said, moving both hands back to her ass.

"That's fine," she consented breathlessly.

"This?" he asked as one hand moved to her thigh and his thumb slid over her clit.

Her head tipped back as she rocked more furiously on him. "God, yes," she moaned.

He covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply to silence her, and she was gone. That verbal exchange was, for them, quite a commitment. He was bliss for her, he _did _make her feel better than any other man had, and he wanted to make her feel that way. She knew he always wanted to, and his want, mixed with hers, led to these frenzied and reckless encounters that she couldn't control enough to stop. He loved making her lose control and taking her as his own. She loved capturing his mind and body.

She was so aroused by him that her thighs and arms, practically her entire body, quivered uncontrollably when her orgasm began, and his hands kept them going, maintained their pace for a few more frenzied meetings of their bodies and he was joining her. They tumbled downward onto the blanket, panting, sweaty and weak, hands still finding skin and lips still seeking contact.

They were almost falling asleep when House sat up and fumbled around the grass for his clothes, and finding some of hers, handed them to her. "We should never wait that long again!" she said.

He laughed, "A day?"

"Yea," she giggled. "It was sheer torture!"

"We're turning into each other already! If I start color coordinating my tee shirts and boxers, I'm going to have to call this off," he jested.

Cuddy went back into the shed and opened the door to allow some light to spill out onto the grass, so they could make sure they had everything. She gathered the blanket they had on the ground and tossed it into a laundry basket that already had towels and bathing suits in it.

"Your sister is really very…Cuddified, isn't she?"

"Oh yea. She can out Cuddy me any day."

"Bullshit," he said lightly. "Trust me, no one personifies that which is 'Cuddy' like you."

"I mean, she's extremely organized. Alphabetized and uncluttered. She puts me to shame."

"Believe me, I'm relieved you aren't insanely interested in hyper organization."

They walked to the house, and Cuddy tried the knob at the back door, noticing that it was locked. "What the fuck?" she asked.

"Go knock on Rachel's window," he suggested.

"No. No. No way."

"Tell her we stepped out for a smoke. Or were hoping for left over meteors."

He could see Cuddy's disapproving glance courtesy of a light left on in the kitchen that shone through the glass panes of the back door.

"OK, OK, she's not dumb. Fine. What do you want to do?" he asked.

Cuddy's shoulders sagged with acceptance and she took his arm, leading him over to a large lounge chair by the pool. "Might as well sleep while we can," she shrugged.

House pulled Cuddy against him on the chair, a slightly cooling faint breeze finally blowing as the night grew later. She was curled against him, and he could tell from her breathing that she would soon be asleep. He breathed out slowly, noting that at that time, literally, he didn't even have a temporary bed beneath him. He kissed her forehead, and mumbled, "It's so good to be home."


	24. Privileges, Coincidences & Paper Napkins

_A/N- As always, thank you so much to all who have read and reviewed since the last installment: housebound, Alltheloveintheworld, JLCH, devonfc, touchatoucha7, lenasti16, IHeartHouseCuddy, Bakerstreet Blues, yahnis14, justlobe, CaptainK8, ClareBear14, partypantscuddy, Suzieqlondon, Truth, southpaw2, jkarr, Alex, Abby, IWuvHouse, dmarchl21, HuddyGirl, OldSFfan, LoveMyHouse, Mon Fogel and the Anonymous Guest reviewers._

_OK, 2 chapters left after this one._

* * *

_-Day 17-Sunday-5am-_

"This is proof that this is a bad idea," Julia said, her words spoken to admonish and wake House and Cuddy before the sun had even fully breached the horizon. "Whatever _hold_ he has on you, makes you act like a complete fool. You forget who you _are_, Lisa. Chief Administrator of one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country, is out fornicating with a convict on a lounge chair in a back yard!"

Before his eyes were even opened, House replied, "We didn't actually fornicate _on_ this particular chair." He sat up, roughly rubbing the side of his face with his hand before looking at Julia. "The least you can do is make sure that your criticism is accurate."

"What if the hospital found out?"

"That administrators have sex?"

Julia scowled, "About her overall behavior."

Cuddy stood from the chair, holding out a hand, asking for temporary silence. Groggy and sweaty from sleep, she was less than thrilled about being reprimanded to awareness. "The living room was hot," Cuddy said as she tried to wake up.

"Great cover Lise, the central air is on…It's about fifteen degrees cooler in the living room," Julia said over her shoulder as she walked through the door and into the kitchen. Once they were all inside Julia added, "You should wait until you're really awake to start lying, otherwise you look stupid."

Cuddy looked at the clock, ignoring Julia's comment in favor of getting out of there and returning home. "Gonna shower quick," she said, kissing House's cheek before she left the room.

Julia was loading the dishwasher, placing each item on the racks more loudly than she needed to as a show of her displeasure. House started to walk to the living room, but decided to wait in the kitchen.

"Pretty ignorant of you to lock the door just to teach Cuddy a lesson," he noted, sitting at the table and looking at the newspaper that was folded there.

"I would never," she began and caught House looking up at her from the table.

"Don't lie," he said when she paused. "I'm sure there was the added bonus of punishing me. I saw Cuddy check the door. It was unlocked. No one else here would do that…except maybe your son…if he thought it would be funny. It's not him though, because, as unbelievably infuriating as it must be to you, he likes me."

"Joe must have checked the locks again," Julia answered.

"Which would make sense, _if_ he didn't already check them earlier. Why would he get up just to check them again? Did you expect Cuddy to find the locked door and say, 'This is such a mistake, if I don't dump House I might end up sleeping on outdoor furniture in suburbia!' She's overlooked far more than a locked door and a few hours spent sleeping outside in order to be with me."

"How can this _not_ be bad? You have to see things from my perspective. You need to acknowledge how you would feel in my position."

"Why should I see things from your perspective? This isn't your relationship," House answered, and then was lost in thought. When he emerged from his thoughtfulness, he genuinely answered, "Actually, I'd probably try to fuck it up. But, I'd realize that if I keep trying to make that decision for her…I might lose her."

"Is that some sort of threat?" Julia asked, her voice surprisingly even.

"No," he said calmly. Referencing a discussion with Cuddy from years before, he added, "A very wise woman once told me that if you try to force someone to choose between two people, you may not like the answer."

Julia placed the last dish she was holding in the dishwasher, and sat next to him at the table. "How do I know things won't be the same?"

"You don't. But it's not your choice to make."

"Don't even give me that satisfied smirk when I tell you this, but…Rachel likes you. She's been so happy since I picked her up. I'm guessing she knew this was all coming." House nodded, and Julia continued, "I really don't want her to get hurt."

"Cuddy doesn't need you telling her how to be a good mother. I think she's got that covered," he answered dismissively.

Julia looked at House with the most baffled expression he had ever seen from the woman. She looked several times like she was going to speak, but avoided creating actual words every time. She stood, poured coffee, for herself and House, and placed the cups on the table. She sipped her coffee in almost complete silence while House wondered if it was possible that he had actually stunned Julia into silence. Rachel peered around the corner at House, "Can you or Mom help me with my suitcase?"

"Duty calls," House said, rising happily, grateful for the excuse to leave the stalled conversation with Julia. Just as he entered the hallway, he turned back to the kitchen, "Cuddy doesn't seem to take her turn at judging _your_ parent style. I'm guessing that's a sister-privilege thing. I thought I'd take a round for her. Your son's gonna keep pushing your buttons…as long as you make them so damn easy to push. He's not actually that bad a kid…he's just a smart ass. You know," he said with satisfaction, "I can see why you like telling Cuddy how to parent. Judging is fun…thanks." At that, House shrugged and walked away.

Rachel was already in the guest room when House caught up. He grabbed her suitcase and rolled it out of the room, running into Cuddy in the hallway. He smiled softly at her, noticing that for some reason, running into him in the hallway actually made her blush. "I can get that," she offered.

"I have it," he smiled. "This is the kind of thing I'm actually perfect for helping with."

He could see exactly what he feared, her thought that perhaps she shouldn't burden him. The belief that maybe she shouldn't need help or have expectations of him. He anticipated her hand flying to the handle and displacing his as she tried to do even this small thing without his assistance. Then he saw her recognize it. She smiled and stepped back to allow him to pass through, "Thank you," she said.

House showered quickly, and when he came out, he found Logan and Rachel plotting in a corner. The two were obviously close friends, as well as cousins, and there seemed to be a very intense and devoted friendship between the two of them. Enough for Logan to be out of bed by six to wish his cousin goodbye and give her a full hug before she left. The rest of them wished quick goodbyes, and although it was clear that House and Julia didn't like each other, they certainly didn't seem outwardly hateful.

They got on the plane, filling three seats across, Cuddy between House and Rachel. Only a few minutes after takeoff, Rachel was asleep. She was at such a strange age, sandwiched between childhood and adulthood, but sleeping, she still looked remarkably childlike. Cuddy was looking at her daughter, allowing the completely surreal experience to register as reality. She was on a plane, headed home, between House and Rachel. Even when they dated she wondered if she ever really considered this scenario as possible in the realm of reality. Then House took her hand. He picked it up and was lining up her fingertips against his when he said, "It's weird…us running into each other. Why did that happen?"

She shrugged, "Coincidence."

"No such thing," he answered.

"Fate?"

He gave her a disbelieving look but refused to provide a verbal answer.

"OK, an act of god?" she asked, suspiciously.

The look that followed was even more incredulous.

"Alright, you figured it out. It was a carefully orchestrated plan, put into effect by Rachel, using her supernatural powers…like a metaphysical version of 'The Parent Trap.' She arranged for me to have a cancer scare, and to have my boyfriend leave me. She also arranged for you to catch Tina cheating on you at about the same time. Then, she arranged for the Blackburn's fight, and your stumbling onto the boat I was already booked on. Does that sound more reasonable than coincidence?"

House chuckled, "It is weird though. Isn't it? I don't get it. I've been trying to figure it out. I mean, I could see…a medical convention, a hospital…a place where we'd normally be. We don't even take vacations. And yet…"

"And yet we met each other unexpectedly on a vacation," she finished. "It_ is_ weird…"

"It's beyond weird. It's…virtually impossible."

"But, given that we are sitting here, it's clearly _not_ impossible."

"Obviously not," he said, his mind still busy at work.

"Meeting Wilson was sort of a strange set of coincidences."

"Not really, doctors often attend conferences…and I often attach myself to people I find interesting. That's just…life."

"So why can't us meeting again be _just life_." He furrowed a brow, but listened as she said, "It just…is. Unexpected things happen every day. This one…happened to be good. That's probably why you feel skeptical."

"It is," he acknowledged. "It is something good. Happening to me. I'm…suspicious."

The settled into their seats, looking at an irritatingly sentimental inflight movie. "Isn't part of you mad, or at least irritated, that it didn't happen earlier," House said sadly.

"What?"

"Us. Why couldn't we work things out before?"

"Because we were a mess, and then we were apart. Many, many miles apart."

"Look at all of the time lost. What if I die soon?"

"God, I hope not," she answered quickly. "But, realistically, it's always possible. As much for me."

"Makes you wonder what the point is."

"Almost," she nodded. "And then I remember that I've had nine years without you. Nine long years. They weren't the best years. Rachel aside. She's amazing. Romantically, personally, I've had nine whole years of total mediocrity. I had boring conversations about things I wasn't interested in, the world's most dull fights," then she whispered, since Rachel was so near, "with so-so sex…I've had more amazing sex in the past two weeks than I have in the last nine years."

He half smiled at her, "Not great years for me either, Cuddy…nothing worth living again."

"Exactly. So I'd happily take two years with you over twenty mediocre or crappy years with anyone else or alone."

* * *

After a brief layover, they finally landed in California, found Cuddy's car in the parking garage, and began the drive back home.

When they entered the gated community, House had plenty to observe. The neighborhood was nice, nicer than any place House had ever lived, but it wasn't too pretentious. He guessed Cuddy probably could have afforded much more. The lawns were relatively well kept, and everything seemed very family oriented. At the end of a cul-de-sac was the Cuddy residence. The home was nice, but not overly elaborate, and sitting on their front steps, was an impatient looking boy. He looked as if he'd been waiting for a while, and Cuddy wondered if he had been sitting there ever since she allowed Rachel to borrow her phone to call him with their flight information. When they came to a stop in the driveway, the boy stood slowly, until he saw Rachel emerge with crutches, and he hurried to her side.

Cuddy had a faint smile on her lips as she watched her daughter talking to the admirer.

"That the best friend?" House asked. "The handsy one?" he added, jokingly.

"Tim. Yea, that's him."

"Want me to rough him up a bit?" he said in a mobster voice.

"No!" Cuddy giggled. "He _really_ is a sweet kid."

House got out of the car and found himself standing over Tim and Rachel. Rachel immediately introduced them to one another. Tim was Rachel's height, perhaps a bit shorter, but slim, so he appeared a little awkward and lanky. He had a wide grin, with high cheekbones, sandy disheveled hair, and friendly dark eyes, and was quite handsome, even at his age. When Cuddy rounded the car, Tim was giving Rachel a one-armed hug, and he nervously turned to Cuddy to give her a one-armed hug as well, although it seemed obvious he was greeting both of them in the same way in order to make his gesture with Rachel seem less significant under the watchful eyes of a mother.

Tim and Rachel walked through the garage to go inside, with House in tow, when he realized Cuddy wasn't with him. He found her at the back of the car, pulling luggage from the trunk. He went out to help her, "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's OK," she teased, "You were probably still upset that Tim didn't hug you."

"You know me so well," he joked back, helping her with the luggage and pulling two pieces inside.

The evening was one of the strangest pleasant experiences of House's life. Rachel took House and Tim to the basement, Rachel one-leggedly hopping down the stairs, so that House could see the rec room Cuddy furnished for Rachel. He realized that, in some way, this must have been difficult for Cuddy. She tried so hard to fill her daughter's life with education and the perfect influences, particularly when Rachel was very small. And then later, she must have realized that her daughter shared some of the same hobbies as House. He guessed that Cuddy must have thought of him when Rachel started to enjoy games and music.

Cuddy could hear them playing downstairs, listening as House and Rachel yelled at the screen while playing a game. After the food was delivered, Cuddy called them upstairs, and they found three pizzas and salad, and House was partially astounded by Cuddy's concession to such a normal dinner. He pointed at the pizza questioningly. "You want something home-cooked, find a woman who didn't just spend two days travelling and the previous night sleeping on a pool lounge chair," Cuddy stated before House could make his comment.

"You wouldn't have been sleeping on a lounge chair if you weren't such a nympho," he whispered.

"I'm sorry that the fact that I love sex…with you…has prevented me from making a healthier meal," she whispered back, cajoling.

He smiled, "No, it's not that," he laughed, "It's pizza!"

"Dear god, House…you're right! It _is _pizza," she teased.

"Isn't that unhealthy?"

"Eh," she commented, "Rachel and Tim like pizza, you like pizza. You think I don't let my kid eat pizza?"

"That's exactly what I thought!"

Cuddy laughed, "I'm not quite that rigid. Besides, I'm tired. You can cook us something healthy tomorrow."

They all ate around the dining room table off of ordinary dinner plates, with folded paper napkins and glasses of ice tea. Rachel told Tim about her brush with disaster and about camp. House listened to the conversation, occasionally falling into discussion with Cuddy. After dinner, Rachel slowly made her way down to the game room with Tim, and House sat at the table quietly.

Cuddy pulled out a chair next to him and sat down, "It's too…domestic…isn't it?"

"What?" he asked, startled.

"This whole mom-and-kid family thing. It isn't let-it-loose, pot-smoking, not-a-care-in-the-world Cuddy anymore. Is it…too much? Too different?"

House's smile was perhaps the subtlest obvious expression Cuddy had ever seen. "I enjoyed it," he finally answered.

"Really? You can be completely honest."

"Thank you for your permission," he joked. "I like it here. I really expected to feel more…out of place. Your home…is really comfortable. I haven't had a family-ish dinner like that…since…since you. Tina and I ate at restaurants, or in front of the TV, with much less chatter either way, if we ate together at all. And…I've done a pretty good job at avoiding my mother. Wilson and I didn't bother with a lot of home cooked meals on the road. Most cheapy motels don't offer great kitchens. I didn't realize I missed it."

House played the piano in the living room while Cuddy took care of a few things like unpacking and laundry. He noticed Cuddy going to the basement several times. After Tim left for the evening, and she settled on the sofa. He said, while he keyed softly on the piano, "You must keep a lot in the basement, you had to go down there an awful lot."

She shot him a playfully admonishing glare. "Important stuff…in the basement," she conceded, her eyes falling down to the mail in front of her.

"Important stuff like…your daughter?"

"Maybe," she smirked again.

"Were you cock-blocking my good pal Tim?" he said, his tone artificially aghast.

"Every single chance I get," Cuddy said, "In fact, cock-blocking every teenaged boy within a ten mile radius of my daughter may be my new hobby."

House stopped playing, got up, and sat next to her on the sofa, thumbing through her mail while they spoke.

"Did you go upstairs and see the rest of the house yet?" she asked.

"You didn't finish the tour, I was waiting."

Cuddy stood up, reaching a hand out for him. They walked up the steps and to the back of the house into the large master bedroom. There was a small sitting area right inside the door. Farther into the room, there was a large, very inviting looking, king-sized bed and dressers, but the room was still spacious with all of the furnishings. It smelled exactly like he thought her room should smell, exactly the way her room _always_ smelled. He felt a small pang of jealousy when he saw the empty bedside table on the far end of the bed, and imagined that, a few weeks earlier, someone else felt at home next to her. Sensing his tenseness, she wrapped her arms around him and he quickly relaxed. She slipped away from him after he eased, turning on the light, while he dropped heavily into the bed.

The bed, like the smell and feeling of the room, was welcoming and soft, and he felt his body sinking down into the pillowy mattress. He was surprised by just how comfortable he already felt there. It had been so long since he'd been in a home after cruise ships, resorts and cheap motels, that Cuddy's home was strange, familiar and exciting.

She smiled at him, standing over the bed. "You like it here?"

He lifted his head from the mattress, "Yea, I do."

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

"Do I look uncomfortable?" he asked burrowing his shoulders down into the mattress.

"No, you don't," she chuckled. "I want you to make yourself comfortable, feel at home. I don't want to do the _his and hers_ thing anymore."

"That's a relief, my place…redefines 'open concept.'" She smiled and he added, "You could come here, that would make me more comfortable."

She kicked off her shoes and lay next to him, sideways on the bed. She felt his hand begin to travel along her back, creeping lower. Her ear was against his chest, so she could actually hear his heart rate increase just a tiny bit when he began to touch her.

"Sorry," she said, moving his hand up to her side.

"Did I do something?"

"No," she laughed, sitting up. "I have to go back downstairs. Rachel's still up. It's that…_mom thing _again."

He saw the flicker of worry and sat up next to her, "No problem," he responded easily. "I'll take a nap on your sofa until she goes to sleep so I'm well rested after bedtime."

She smiled openly, appreciative of his relaxed acceptance of her circumstance.

"Hey, Cuddy," House asked as she leaned her head against his shoulder, still seated on the bed.

"Hmm?"

"Who or what is Apollo?"


	25. Apollo

_A/N-thank you so much to the readers and these reviewers since the last time: Alltheloveintheworld, partypantscuddy, housebound, Megypop, lenasti16, LiaHuddy, Isabel Bernardi, IHeartHouseCuddy, JLCH, justlobe, OldSFfan, jkarr, Bakerstreet Blues, AussieFan12, Zaydasky, Abby, dmarchl21, Alex, HuddyGirl, ClareBear14, CaptainK8, LoveMyHouse, Josam, JD, precioussoulandsweetcheeksii n1, Mon Fogel, and the anonymous Guest reviewers._

_Many of you have sent me such kind messages and reviews, I'm overwhelmed by how many of you enjoy these stories. I'm not done writing, I'm just done with this particular story. One week after I'm done with this one, I'll start the next one. Just taking a week because I like to have everything planned ahead, and several chapters written before I start to post...I'm a planner. : )  
_

_I'll try to get the next chapter out during the weekend, but I can't promise anything...  
_

* * *

_-Day 17-Sunday-Night-_

He could _feel_ her eyes open and her jaw tense. "What?"

"I saw your mail_…__and…_Who's Apollo? Or what is it?"

"It's nothing, really," she said, getting up and gesturing for him to follow.

"That's my secret request then," he said, as he followed her down the stairs, pleased that with his much improved leg, he could actually keep up with her, because she was really hauling away.

"We're home, vacation's over, which means the secret a day is over," she responded with a conciliatory smile.

Cuddy made her way into the kitchen, and held out two bottles of wine. House smiled, remembering how she'd often have him choose wine for their dinners. All of those years ago, he thought it was one of the only things she trusted him with, outside of sex and diagnostics. So many things between them were different, and this carryover in behavior was a pleasant reminder of the fact that they had experienced a relationship in the past, and it wasn't all bad. It also demonstrated how much things had changed.

He took the bottle he wanted, and went to the drawer where he thought he'd find the corkscrew. After he opened the bottle, he began familiarizing himself with the kitchen, and found everything exactly where he'd expect to find it. Cuddy brought glasses over, and House poured. "This has got to be good," he said after his first sip of wine. "Why won't you tell me?"

"It's not good…it's _dumb_, really, it is not important."

"If it's not important, then tell me."

Rachel came into the room, wincing a bit while she walked as the crutches rubbed sore spots under her arms. Cuddy grabbed a third glass, poured a scant amount of wine and handed it to Rachel. House's jaw dropped. "What are you doing?"

Cuddy and Rachel both stared blankly at him. "That's illegal, Dr. Cuddy, oh great rule follower."

"I've broken plenty of rules, House," she responded with a smirk. "It's a sip. A taste. You can't _possibly_ be opposed."

"I'm not. I'm just…" It was clear again that Cuddy surprised him. The claims she made on one of their first days on the cruise ship were true, she really _had_ relaxed over the years.

"Mom's not _completely_ lame," Rachel offered.

"Wow, thanks," Cuddy said dryly. "I appreciate such a glowing endorsement."

"It's true, you aren't nearly as uptight as people think," Rachel said, imagining that she was bestowing a great compliment on her mother.

Cuddy's jaw clenched briefly with frustration before she returned to her discussion with House. "It's a sip of wine."

"You just surprised me."

"When you have a kid, you have to learn to bend a bit, or you'll break faster than you can believe," Cuddy said, patting his chest and kissing him quickly on the lips.

He looked at Cuddy, then at Rachel, and neither seemed to be at all uneasy about the display of affection. House shook off his surprise and let his brain, and his curiosity, take control again. "Hey, Rachel, what's Apollo?"

The girl's mouth opened immediately, "Oh, Apollo…"

"Stop," Cuddy interrupted, looking at Rachel and then turning to face House. "Fine. Paul…Paul is Apollo."

"That's…his name?"

"You are going to torment me forever about this, aren't you?"

"Likely," House said, "Spill it."

"Paul…referred to himself as Apollo for his business…like a…business persona. He thought 'Paul' was too weak and nerdy sounding. He felt he needed a more…powerful…godly name."

"He was actually going to change it though, remember, Mom? He got a lawyer, and started the paperwork," Rachel added, and Cuddy's face furrowed and scrunched with further embarrassment.

House was trying not to laugh, mostly because he wasn't sure if Rachel still had fond feelings for Paul, after all, they were friends. Cuddy could see the discomfort on his face as he tried not to laugh. "So, what was the name of his business?" he choked out.

"Apollo's Brick Bodies…he liked that he could shorten it to 'A-B-B,'" Rachel chimed in. "You should see the commercials!"

House grinned, "There's commercials?"

"Yea, we have some…" Rachel stopped, looking at Cuddy. "Never mind," Rachel said.

"I'll bet I can search for them on the internet," House offered.

Cuddy winced again. After looking at House's attempt to hide his laughter, Rachel added, "It's OK. I thought it made him look like a complete tool, you can laugh in front of me. Paul was nice…but kinda dumb."

"Rachel!" Cuddy corrected.

"What?" Rachel said, "It's true! He was fun to play soccer or volleyball with. I liked having him pick me up after rehearsals over at the high school, because the girls thought he was hot, and they were nice to me. He was like…having a big brother. A really dumb, really sweet, big brother. It was so easy to get stuff from him, he'd take me to all of the…" Rachel stopped suddenly, realizing that her gloating probably landed her in trouble. "I'm just joking," she said, attempting a recovery.

"Right," Cuddy said skeptically.

"Umm," she said, sadly. "I'm going to go to bed, before I get in more trouble."

"Good idea," Cuddy said, smiling and hugging her daughter goodnight.

Rachel stood in front of House and extended a hand to shake once she was balanced on her crutches. He looked down at her hand, and she said, "I remember…you _hate _hugs."

He searched her face for a second and said, "You remember a lot of things, it's actually _very_ impressive. But you were really little, it's not surprising that your mind mixed some stuff up. I'm hardly the hugging world champion, and I don't hug just _anyone_, but I don't _hate_ hugs," he said, scoffing as if the idea was completely unfathomable.

He stepped forward and hugged Rachel, the contact quick, as brief as the hug she offered him at Julia's, and Cuddy could see the hint of discomfort on his face, but his willingness to try in spite of that discomfort was unbelievably meaningful to her. He stepped back, smiling at Rachel, able to tell by the look on her face that she also knew the truth, and that she appreciated the gesture. "Night, Rachel," he said.

"Night," she replied as she left the room.

When Rachel was gone a few moments, Cuddy covered her mouth with her hand and said, "Oh my god, House, you are so…"

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's nothing, let it go. OK?"

Cuddy nodded, tears forming along her eyelids. He poured them another glass of wine and held it up for a toast, quickly changing the subject. He cleared his throat theatrically and said, "To us. And most importantly, to my new friend, for ensuring that I never…ever…ever feel threatened by his memory, because he was way too much of an idiot to even think about…and for being the type of guy that would treat a perfect specimen of a woman like shit when she needed him the most, allowing me to come in and swoop up the pieces of her broken heart with my tender, caring hands," Cuddy rolled her eyes and scoffed through an involuntary smirk, as House continued, "To you, my dearest Apollo, with gratitude."

She smacked his arm, as they sipped. "This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to tell you. Because I knew you'd completely…"

Cuddy yipped softly when he, with what seemed like one motion, took the glass from her hand, put it on the counter, and had her perched on the edge of the surface next to it.

"I'd completely what?" he said, leaning toward her.

"You scared me," she said, laughing nervously.

"I know, I can feel your heartbeat," he said, pushing his chest tighter against hers. "I'd completely what?" he asked again.

"You'd mock me. Make fun of my choices."

"Maybe I'm mean. Or maybe part of me feels better knowing that the most recent competition was kind of embarrassing. Feels…reassuring. Don't you like feeling like Tina the uber slore is no competition?"

She failed at hiding her smile, and leaned closer, her lips now almost against his, "Of course I do. And _he_ wasn't my type. You're my type."

"I'm sure," he chuckled, stopping abruptly when she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer.

"Don't call me a liar," she said, punctuating each word with a kiss.

"Never," he said, pulling her closer.

"If you kiss me when I call you a liar, how will you punish me if I call you other names…if I could have a little list of terms and their appropriate _punishments_, that would be invaluable in my name-calling selections."

"Sure," she nodded sarcastically. "I'll make a spreadsheet."

"So if I'm better than him…can I be Zeus?"

"Please stop," she said, smirking in spite of herself. "How about you take me upstairs? We could try out the bed? See if you like it."

"It's nothing but work with you, isn't it? Test this. Research that. Assess, assess, assess…"

"You're right, I expect too much," she admitted, "If you don't want to, I'll hire an intern."

House smirked, "No, you can't bring in a student to take the place of years of experience."

When they got to the top of the steps, they heard Rachel call from her room. Cuddy and House stood in the doorway. Rachel's room, like her, reflected the precariousness of growing up and the awkward transitions of aging. She still had plush animals on one side of her room, but also had the band and movie posters one would expect to find in a teenager's room. On another side of her room, a bookshelf was overflowing, and she had a neatly organized computer desk. It was obvious the room had been recently painted an off-white, likely an attempt at the appearance of maturity as the more childlike colors of her younger days became embarrassing to her.

"So, can I go camping with Tim's family or what? Please? I'm supposed to tell them tomorrow," Rachel inquired.

"Rachel we didn't even discuss your punishment for sneaking out yet. It's late, let's talk about it in the morning," Cuddy responded.

"Can't we talk about it now?" Rachel asked insistently.

House looked at Cuddy, and motioned down the hall, "I'm going to go get cleaned up."

Cuddy nodded at him as he went down the hall. He certainly didn't retreat to the bathroom, or even to the bedroom. He sat on the floor at the end of the hall, fascinated by the interaction between the two of them. He could see half of Cuddy, could see her posture, sense her stress levels, as she spoke from the doorway.

"I'm good all of the time," Rachel insisted. "I'm practically the perfect daughter."

"That may be true, and not only have I often told you that I'm proud of your behavior…and your accomplishments…but I have actually rewarded that behavior. Don't act like I don't notice those things."

"It's not fair, you can have a new boyfriend and I can't even go on a camping trip with a guy who is _not _ my boyfriend…and his parents are going to be there."

"I think at my age, I'm entitled to that. I also think, as we've discussed before, twelve is still young."

"I'm very mature."

"For your age, yes, you are," Cuddy said calmly. "I also know that there are a lot of decisions that you are not prepared to make. You think you are, but you aren't. It's my job, as your mom, to try to make sure you aren't in a position to have to make those choices yet. At some point, these decisions will be yours to make. I want you to be old enough, confident enough, smart enough…to make good decisions on your own. _When_ the time comes."

"I'm not some mindless seething pile of hormones," Rachel said, offended.

"I agree," Cuddy shrugged evenly. "I'm not accusing you of that."

"Haven't I earned a little of your trust?"

"You've made recent decisions that were poor."

"Why do you get to do whatever you want and you sit around controlling me?" Rachel said angrily.

"Parent," Cuddy said, and House could see Cuddy was pointing at her own chest. "Child," Cuddy added, pointing at Rachel.

"I _hate_ when you do that."

"Then don't ask a question that requires that as my answer."

House couldn't have possibly been more intrigued by their fight. It never even occurred to him that some people would be irritated by the sounds of such a disagreement. It was astounding, just how quickly the calm, easy atmosphere of the home became tense and confrontational. He could see Cuddy tense a bit, but he had to give the woman credit, she was cool-headed, thoughtful, and still attentive to the needs of her child.

What was most intriguing to him, not even intriguing, but _astounding_, was what he knew for a fact: He knew what this fight would _not_ become.

He knew that the next day, and every day following, Cuddy _would_ speak to her child, and acknowledge her existence. He knew that Cuddy could, and would, make unpopular decisions, but she wasn't making them to manipulate, train or control, she was making them to protect someone she loved. He knew Cuddy would never use the fact that Rachel was not biologically related as a weapon. She'd never infer that Rachel was, in any way, anything less than completely Cuddy's.

He knew that the fight would not conclude with blood or bruises. He knew there would be no pain. There certainly could, and probably would, be sadness and tension, but not pain.

He wondered if Rachel appreciated the stable and ultimately supportive environment that she was raised in for almost her entire life. He wondered if Rachel had any idea how fortunate she was to not be surrounded by derision and abuse. He wondered if she knew what it meant to be hated, effectively disowned, beaten and abused. And then he was overwhelmingly grateful that she had no idea what _any_ of that was like.

Their disagreement continued while he thought and then he heard Cuddy say, "Perhaps we can come to a compromise."

"No compromises," Rachel said, "I've earned this."

"You have two choices Rachel, we try to reach a compromise, or the answer is a final, and unequivocal, 'no.'"

House heard Rachel sigh, "Fine, what's the compromise?"

"I'll call Tim's parents tomorrow," Cuddy began.

"Please don't embarrass me!" Rachel began.

"You want the _compromise_…or the _no_?" Cuddy asked, still remarkably calm after ten minutes of argument and dissent.

"What's the compromise?" Rachel said, still testy.

"I'll call his parents and discuss the arrangements with them, see if I feel more comfortable. I can tell you right now, I'm not going to just say, 'Sure, she can do whatever she wants.' What I'm thinking is, that either I can take you up there in the morning, let you spend the day with them, and pick you up in the evening…"

"Mom," Rachel whined.

Cuddy held out a hand, and Rachel stopped, "Or, if your behavior deems it, I'll rent a cabin up there. I can give you some space during the day, you can hang out with Tim and his family, but come back and crash in the cabin with us at night."

"So embarrassing, but better than nothing," Rachel sighed.

"Let me talk to Tim's parents. We'll work something out, but get used to the fact that this isn't going to be exactly the way you want it."

"Fine."

"And really, Rachel, I'm trying to meet you half way, so cut the attitude."

"OK."

"Do you have any idea what your grandmother would have said, if I asked…"

"I know!" Rachel interrupted, "I know your mom would have freaked. It isn't the Victorian Era anymore, Mom."

Cuddy chuckled, wondering if she should point out that her daughter, so desperate not to look nerdy, actually referenced the 'Victorian Era' in an argument, but decided against it. "I know it sucks," Cuddy said with somber acceptance. "Believe me. You'll have to trust that I want what's best for you. If it's any comfort, in a few years, you can move out, go to college, build a career, get your own house, and boss around your own children. Then you won't have _time _to do whatever you want," she joked.

House could hear Rachel's smirk. "Please think about it. Oh, and when can we go get a new phone, since mine's all smashed up."

"Actually, since you brought up your phone…your punishment. Seems fitting that it broke while you were sneaking out, doesn't it?"

"Oh seriously? Meteors…remember? Not a big deal!"

"The problem wasn't what you wanted to do once you were out…it was the lying and sneaking to get out. You know that."

"I know."

"OK. No computer or TV for a week. And you have to earn your phone back."

"What?"

"I have a pile of chores that need done, you can do them, earn money to buy a new phone."

"What am I supposed to do with no TV and no computer when I can't even walk?"

"You could read, or…let me think…" Cuddy tapped her finger on her cheek in thought, "Oh, I've got it…you could work on the list of chores."

"I have a broken leg! I can't do chores!"

"I didn't say I was going to have you clean out the gutters. But…if you can't do the chores until the cast is off, then I guess you'll have to wait longer for your phone."

House waited for a response from Rachel, and realized Cuddy finally had her. He knew, that Rachel knew, much as he had on many occasions as an employee, that there was no more discussion. Cuddy's mind was made up. He saw her head tilt with compassion, "I love you, Rachel, I'm so glad you weren't hurt worse."

He saw Cuddy disappear into Rachel's room, he was certain she was giving her child a hug. A fucking argument between a parent and child, ended in a hug. He was still baffled. He had heard of things like this, had even seen them on TV, but as an actual witness, the entire thing was more confusing to him than he'd ever admit. Cuddy was a good mom when he had seen her in action before, but the preschooler House knew didn't talk back as effectively. When House was Rachel's age, things between he and his dad changed. That was around the same time that things for him got bad. Very bad. He had said things far less argumentative to his dad than Rachel dared, and the outcomes were so much worse.

When Cuddy made it to the hall, she started to pull Rachel's door shut and he heard Rachel call from inside to her mother, "Night."

Cuddy walked back toward her bedroom, finding House sitting on the floor in front of the door. "Sorry we were interrupted," she began, "I didn't think I'd get into that discussion tonight."

He looked up at her from the floor, and realized that seeing her, as a parent, as a person who lacked the ability to react violently against her child, even if she wanted to, meant something to him in a way that he didn't think was possible. "Don't apologize for being a good mother," he said gruffly.

She shook her head and backed away. He clearly surprised her. "What?"

He stood, and pulled her into the bedroom. "Stop worrying that I'm going to get irritated because you're a good mother. That's…beyond stupid. And you do know what a cabin is, right?" he said, amused. "You do know that this isn't a hotel located at a campground. And there are crawly things."

"I do know what a cabin is," Cuddy replied. "I actually…went to one before. And I survived."

"How was that?" he asked, with even greater amusement.

"I _loved_ it," she said, quickly pulling away from him and forcing an oddly uncomfortable smile.

His look told her that he knew she was lying and she said, "Yea. I'm lying through my teeth. I went…but it sucked. It wasn't as much fun as it was when I was younger. I'll do it again though."

"As part of your agreement?"

"Yes. It's not her fault I'm not into stuff like that. It's better than a tent."

"So that would leave us all day…alone, in a cabin. We'd be so exhausted we'd have to sleep at night…so we'd be on good behavior by the time she got back."

"Exactly," Cuddy smirked.

House was watching her as she paced, just a bit, around the room, shaking off the tenseness of the earlier argument. "What would you do?" she asked.

"About?"

"Rachel. This trip."

"You're kidding?"

"I'm just interested in your thoughts. It isn't a test. It's just so hard to decide." Cuddy sat on the bed and let her head rest on her hands. "It's so hard to know if I'm making the right decisions. Am I strict enough, too strict, am I paying enough attention or smothering?"

During the entire argument, Cuddy was the picture of poised motherhood. After the fight, the lingering doubts and concerns made her human. "I don't know what I'd do," House said. "I thought you were being pretty generous."

"Too generous?" she asked.

He smirked and shook his head. "I have no experience in this. Even my mom probably wouldn't have let me go, if it were me. I mean…it's probably safer now at twelve than at sixteen. But if you let her go now, but not when she's sixteen…I don't know, Cuddy."

She could see that he was taking the conversation seriously, that he appreciated the depths of her conundrum, the weight of the responsibility of parenthood that rested on her shoulders.

He gathered his thoughts and then spoke, "I think what you suggested is fair. You both win. She can see her friend, and have fun camping. You can know she's not sharing sleeping bags and studying human reproduction first hand."

Cuddy winced a little. "Thank you," she said honestly, deciding that the sentiment was so much more important than the phraseology. "It's good to have another perspective."

"Sure," he asked suspiciously, realizing the rarity with which he was asked for his thoughts on parenting.

"It's like that sometimes, living with a kid. One minute, everything's fine, then one question…one comment and they hate you. You can't tell how things are gonna go some days."

"So our whole thing…back when we worked together…dated, really was just prepping you for later challenges as a mother. I mean we were the same way…one comment, one misunderstanding…everything could change in a heartbeat."

Cuddly smiled and shook her head, "Strangely, it's kinda true. I'm pleased we finally passed that awkward, decades-long adolescent phase."

* * *

Cuddy had everything he needed laid out for him in the bathroom, and while she got ready for the night, he flung back the covers, stripping down to his underwear, and slid into the softest sheets he thought he had ever felt. He actually sighed. When Cuddy joined him, in a cute, but hardly provocative, nightshirt and shorts, he sighed again. It had been almost a decade since he'd been in her bed at her home, for that brief flash of months. Missing it all of those years made it all the sweeter.

They were both tired, and he scooped his body against hers, breathing in the clean smells of the room and Cuddy. She wiggled against him and her breath slowed quickly. He was often amazed by the ease with which she fell asleep. Although since they had met again, he was sleeping better than he had since the infarction. The first consistently good sleep in about twenty years. He wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes. He felt Cuddy giggle when he started to get aroused by their closeness and he mumbled, "Sorry," pulling away from her just a few inches.

"Speaking of stupid things to apologize for!" she said, rolling over to face him. "Don't apologize for wanting me."

He smiled when her hands began slowly, smoothly moving against his skin, and he couldn't stop his own hands from moving over her. "Hey," he said suddenly, "Rachel doesn't sneak into bed in the morning anymore, does she?"

"She's twelve," Cuddy answered, "She'd rather be caught dead than sleeping in here with me. I did lock the door though."

"With as tired as you are, you still counted on sex?"

"I wasn't counting on it, I just figured, you, me, close quarters…at some point during the night, I thought it was a definite possibility."

They couldn't seem to prevent themselves from having sex. Both of them knew it wasn't going to be their most adventurous encounter, and certainly not the most orchestrated. Last minute, tired-exhaustion sex was still amazingly good, and they both appreciated that fact. They faced each other, searching for skin and warmth, almost lazily groping, but the contact was so missed during its absence, and so appreciated once regained, that everything felt enticing anyway. They were each easily aroused by the other one, no matter what the circumstance. When House finally entered her they held still for several moments, kissing, touching, adjusting, and every moment of their brief encounter felt like exactly what they needed.

He was whispering to her how beautiful she was, how irresistible, how completely sexy. She was whispering about how she longed for him when he was gone, and how irresistible he was to her, how deeply attractive. Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly around him, and he realized that she was pulling him to her in every way that she could. When she started to come, he gladly allowed himself to follow, to allow them to experience the fullness of their mutual passion. He collapsed on her, and they remained close.

Cuddy's skin still tingled with the aftereffects, and she realized that they had literally screwed each other in places across a nice section of the world, in locations appropriate and inappropriate. They had long intense sessions, with teases and careful physical manipulation, leading to multiple orgasms and literal screams of pleasure. Somehow, even the typically mundane quick screw at home, in their bed before sleep, even that felt exciting. He fell asleep with half a grin on his face as Cuddy still kept him near with vise-like strength.

Had Rachel not snuck out and broken her leg, the following day would have been the last day of vacation, the day they were supposed to leave New Orleans.


	26. Propositions

_A/N-Thank you so much to everyone who's followed this story and to my reviewers since last chapter: housebound, Alltheloveintheworld, Josam, partypantscuddy, bladesmum, iamawallflower, OhwindotI, IHeartHouseCuddy, IwuvHouse, JLCH, Clare, lenasti16, Suzieqlondon, OldSFfan, Bakerstreet Blues, dmarchl21, CaptainK8, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, southpaw2, Little Greg, JD, LoveMyHouse, LiaHuddy, justlobe, Mon Fogel and the anonymous Guest reviewers. Honestly…thank you all so much for your kind words and for sharing your feedback…it means so much. Thanks also to all who have followed and favorited the story.  
_

_I'm considering following my trend (since I wrote new stories from the finales of Season 7 and 8) and writing stories from the end of each finale from Seasons 1-5…because lots of different things could have happened at the end of each of the finales. Might be interesting to test the possibilities at the end of each year. I don't know, I haven't decided yet, but I'm kind of excited about that. _

_This is officially the end of this one. I'll begin to post the 'Too Lost' sequel on or before next Monday, for anyone who might be interested. You'll be hearing from me again soon._

* * *

-_Day 18-Monday-Morning-_

When House woke, Cuddy was gone, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was somewhere _working_. The smell of coffee and food got him out of bed and dressed, and he thought perhaps Cuddy wasn't working after all. In the kitchen, he found Rachel, standing over the stove, and he sat on the bar stool on the other side of the island across from where she cooked. "You allowed to do that?" he asked.

"Cook?" Rachel asked, as if his question was completely ridiculous.

"The stove…" he said, still not fully awake.

"Yes. Stove hot," she said in a sarcastically childish voice.

His lips curved into something remotely like a smile, or what would have been a smile had he been fully awake.

"You need coffee?" Rachel asked, pointing at a full pot.

"Sure. Did you make that?"

"Yea," she answered, "I'm a big girl, I can even take a shower all by myself now."

"Guess I deserve that," he responded distantly before yawning.

He saw Rachel hop for a coffee cup, return to the island, and pour some, shoving sugar in his direction and sliding the milk across the counter. He noticed that she watched what he used in his coffee for future reference.

"You make breakfast a lot?" House asked.

"Not really. Sometimes. I'm hoping Mom will count this towards my phone payment. Did you hear that crap she's putting me through for one _little_ mistake?"

House still wasn't fully awake, but he knew that Rachel was probably testing her boundaries with him, and he knew defining them early was probably best. Playing both sides of the Cuddy women certainly had potential entertainment value, but if he wanted to keep both of them, and himself, happy, it wasn't a wise way to go. "Look, Rachel, I had parents I had to listen to…granted this was _eons_ ago…but your mom, she's alright. You have it good."

"You're just saying that because you're…well, ya know. You and my mom are…" Rachel paused, and was looking directly at him, clearly another challenge.

House sat back with an amused but vaguely threatening look. In all honesty, he had no idea what he was going to do if Rachel said what he suspected she was going to say, but if she was going to say it, she'd have to do so with him staring right at her. He certainly didn't picture himself ratting out the kid to her mother, after all, he liked Rachel, and he certainly wasn't a rat, but he couldn't really correct her either. The look he had given his fellows all of those years, and often patients' family members, one that said, 'you better know what you're saying _before_ you say it,' worked very effectively. He held Rachel's gaze unwaveringly, and leaned forward over the counter, pointing to his ear, "I'm old…sorry didn't hear that, what was that about me…maybe something to do with your mom?"

Rachel flipped the eggs and hit the lever to drop the bread down into the toaster, mostly keeping her eyes on him while buying time to think. He could see she was assessing him. He started to really appreciate Rachel in their little battle, because he realized, he would have acted the same way at her age, had a strange man been introduced in his household. And he hoped he wasn't going to fuck it up now that he was on the other end. She finally offered a one-sided smirk. "You're just saying that because you _like_ my mom."

He smirked back, moving his arm to one side to give her room to slide a plate with an egg sandwich in front of him on the counter. "You eat eggs?" she asked.

"Yea, thanks," he said. Picking up the sandwich with one hand and holding it while he addressed the still lingering accusation in the air. "I do…_like_ her. I hope to be around to continue _liking_ her for a long time. I'm not easily manipulated though, and I'm not going to let you use me in your game."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Rachel said unconvincingly as she nodded, almost as if the current testing of boundaries was complete, although he was certain it wouldn't be the last time. He wanted to be ready to deal with those things as they happened. It was more complicated than before, he was in no position to correct her for anything, he wasn't her father, he was essentially new in her life, wasn't a narc, and it wasn't like when she was a preschooler, back when he at least felt he had the authority of a babysitter when Cuddy wasn't around. There were two things he was certain of: there were three stubborn and intelligent people living under the same roof, and older kids came with a whole new set of rules.

They chatted while Rachel made another sandwich and started to cut up a melon, able to enjoy each other's company again. "Your mom go to work?" he asked.

"Nah. She doesn't go back until Wednesday. She's out back, the whole morning yoga ritual crap," she said, smirking and rolling her eyes.

"You don't like yoga?"

"Not my thing. I like sports with an actual purpose. Some competition."

"Yea, but your mom likes those too."

"As old as she is and she still completely kicks my butt at tennis," Rachel conceded. "Have you ever seen her play volleyball?"

"I don't think I have," House said, still finding it odd that Cuddy, outside of a professional environment, was still not entirely known to him.

"She's so tiny, and the little woman pops out of nowhere and spikes the freaking ball. How does she even reach the top of the net? No one can figure it out, but it's amazing! You probably don't know how vicious she can be…she's all delicate and sweet around you."

House scoffed loudly. "Yea," he said sarcastically, "those are the first two words_ I'd_ use to describe her. I knew your mother in college and I worked for her forever. She's tough…a worthy opponent in _any_ game."

Rachel barely smiled, but he could see that she approved of the compliment. "In college, you were her boyfriend?"

"Umm…" House shoved the sandwich in his mouth and took a big bite as he tried to figure out what Cuddy would have told Rachel. "More like friends," he said, his mouth still partially full.

"Too bad you guys didn't go out back then, huh?" she asked sadly.

"Better late than never," he responded, still chewing, as the back door slid open and Cuddy came in.

"Thanks," she said, walking up to her daughter while the girl slid a bowl of melon slivers and a coffee toward her, with a big smile.

Cuddy smiled back, anticipating the question hiding behind Rachel's expression, "No, I didn't talk to Tim's parents yet. I'll do that after my shower."

Rachel said sweetly, "I didn't say anything. What do you want done today, Mom?"

"You can dust all of the stuff in the cabinets in the dining room and hall, including the shelves, _before_ you put everything back. You should be able to do most of the work sitting on a chair, you won't have to stand the whole time. I'm going to shower and run over to Tim's, then I'll be back."

Cuddy left for an hour, talking to Tim's parents, who lived in the same neighborhood, about their camping trip. When she returned, everything was quiet. She went through the living room, eventually finding Rachel, seated on a chair, with her leg propped up on another chair and some pillows. House was standing next to her, taking the pieces out of a curio cabinet and handing them to her. Rachel would dust each piece and put them on the table, while House wiped off the shelf, and then replaced the items. She was asking him questions about a case, something from long ago that Cuddy seemed to vaguely remember.

She listened to them for a while, the easy way the two spoke and interacted. She was surprised that Rachel wasn't more guarded around House. Cuddy wasn't sure if it was because he felt known, or because Rachel just genuinely seemed to like him, and wanted to be liked in return. House seemed very relaxed around Rachel too, without the need to project an appearance of dislike for the girl. She thought it was funny that he was so disarmed. She also guessed that, as they got to know each other, there would probably be some pretty intense disagreements, as Rachel, like both of them, did not easily back down from a fight.

Cuddy had always enjoyed watching him when he was unaware that she was there, and that day, she could see the way he had cared for Rachel in her absence, seeing the steps he took to make Rachel more comfortable. It was easier for him to be caught curing than caring, but when Cuddy walked in the room, he continued on as he was.

* * *

Later that night, Cuddy asked him, "Do you want a job?"

"I have some money," he shrugged, "I'm not planning on being a kept man."

"I wasn't suggesting you were. I'm not asking you for money, I'm asking if you want to work."

"You offering me a job?"

"I know you have your diagnostics website. Just, yea, I'm sort of offering."

"I thought you didn't want us to work together."

"I thought you might want to work at one of the hospitals that has a diagnostics department near here. We partner with them sometimes. Don't feel like I'm pushing you…because I'm not, there is no expectation with that. There's no time limit on the offer, but if you feel like working in a few weeks, I can make a call. Ya know, if you're bored."

"Sounds interesting," he said gratefully.

* * *

House did contact the hospital that Cuddy suggested for a job in diagnostics. It was nearby, but allowed them to work in separate buildings. Metro Area General Hospital eagerly hired him. His license had long since lapsed, because he had no interest in keeping it up over the previous years, but the Human Resources Department was eager to help him. It was fun being back in that environment, and strangely there, years and miles away from his earlier actions, he was more venerated than loathed. Of course there were a few people who objected to House's hiring, so he had a stricter probationary period than most newly hired doctors. Classes in diagnostics all over the country frequently included his name and cases, and he was somewhat of an interestingly mythical figure to some of the students. "I went from a convict to a fucking celebrity," he told Cuddy a few days after he started. "Some of the students there seem to linger in the background_ hoping_ that I'll insult them."

When they were almost at their one year anniversary, Cuddy's hospital requested a consult from House. He felt it was a bad omen. They never made it that long as a couple before, and fate was being tempted. He didn't live his ordinary days worrying about a breakup, they got along well, for them, but he couldn't help but be occasionally concerned, particularly when life had seldom seemed to allow him to be happy for very long.

They spoke the night before, agreeing to keep professional things professional, and to keep private life at home. House sat in the waiting area across from Cuddy's only long lasting assistant, Verena Richter. House could sense the hint of a German accent beneath years of practiced speech. There was an underlying feeling that if he tried to barge into Cuddy's office, Verena would take him out at the knees.

"She in a meeting?" House asked Verena after several minutes.

"No, Doctor," she answered without looking up.

"Why am I out here then?"

"She'll let me know when she's ready for you."

"She is ready, she just thinks I'll walk right in, she doesn't think I'm waiting _patiently _outside. Call her."

"No, Doctor." She answered sternly.

House decided to take a chance with Verena's wrath and stood up and walked right through Cuddy's door. "There you are," said Cuddy with a soft smile, "I thought maybe you weren't going to make it. I've been anticipating the moment when my door would fling open."

House smiled, "The pit bull you hired to assist you wouldn't remove her teeth from my pant leg."

House walked closer to her and, for a moment, she felt like the cane was _really _missing from his attire. It was the first time she really thought of the fact that it was missing for quite some time. He was rumpled and scruffy, wearing his own uniform, and she thought he looked entirely irresistible. She also couldn't quite wrap her mind around the fact that, even in this setting, he was still hers. Verena burst into the room with security, pointing at him.

Cuddy gracefully emerged from behind her desk, still his epitome of a sexy, powerful and intelligent woman. Even though he knew how she looked that morning, it didn't prepare him for seeing her in her office. He had seen her office a few times over the year, but never in a working capacity.

Once Verena and security were properly reassured, Cuddy gestured for him to join her in the sitting area, instead of at her desk. She was talking about her hospital's security procedures, and which areas he'd have access to while he was there. His mind was completely preoccupied. She handed him the temporary ID badge and his finger grazed hers as they watched each other. "You shouldn't need access to either, but just in case, floor four is maternity, so there's another security point there, and floor seven is psych, so…" Cuddy stopped her explanation and her expression turned serious.

"You having second thoughts about me being here?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"No," she stated with certainty.

Cuddy reminded herself that they had morning sex, an attempt to stave off temptation while at work, but the more she thought about that fact, the more she remembered just how amazing the sex was that morning. Then she felt a horrible sense of longing, of missing the very thing that was right in front of her. She supposed it was because more of their history involved wanting than having, and that this familiarly strange circumstance brought forth those memories and feelings in her mind.

"Where was I?" she asked.

"Seventh floor," House offered.

"Yes, the seventh floor is psych, so there's heavy security there and you have to check all of your…"

Cuddy tilted her head, interrupting her train of thought again. She couldn't get over the look on House's face, a little uncertain in response to her behavior, because he didn't know what she was thinking. She could feel how deeply she loved him while she looked at him, sitting there, often appearing filled with bravado and confidence, when under it all, he was uncertain and vulnerable. In some ways, she was transported back to the devastation of the last time they worked together in a hospital. She felt both wounded and guilty, and her chest ached.

"What's wrong, Cuddy?" he asked, "I can leave. It was your idea to have me brought in."

"I know," she said, smiling nervously.

She stood, and slipped onto his lap, her arms wrapping around him, "I'm distracted by how much I miss you."

He chuckled unintentionally, with relief and a little confusion. Then, as his tension eased, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Better?"

She kissed his cheek softly and patted his shoulder. "Just a sec," she said, walking to the door and locking it.

She returned to her spot on his lap, and leaned toward him slowly, allowing her eyes to close just as her lips met his. Trying to soothe the pain and heartache of years and years ago, she kissed him with all of the depth of feeling that she had. He knew she wasn't going to screw him in her hospital, it almost didn't matter. Making out on the chairs in her office was an expression of love, of apology, of forgiveness. It wasn't about sex.

"Is this…an interview sort of thing?" he asked with a smirk when they broke contact.

"Nah, you already have the job. It's more like an orientation."

House reviewed the information for the patient, and met with the attending physician and the other specialists that were called in for the case. After an hour, Cuddy called him down to her office to sign some papers she'd forgotten, and when he got there, she kissed him slowly, longingly, against her door, barely allowing him into the room before she was kissing him, having already grown to miss his presence. There weren't any papers to be signed. He visited her for permission to run a test, made out with her as she sat on the desk with him standing between her legs. The test had already been run. They kissed and pawed fervently before lunch in an empty hospital room, and in the office he was using while the oncologist he was working with was in the bathroom. They reclaimed the professional aspect of their love life, freed from the ruins of their own battered history. When she left for the evening, he promised to come home the very moment he was able.

Once Cuddy was home, Rachel asked to go to her friend Megan's for a sleepover. Cuddy agreed, then she wished that House wasn't at the hospital, finishing the case. The door flung open when he came home, "Figured it out!" he announced.

He looked around the room, "Where's Rachel?"

"Megan's."

"Seriously?" he said with happy surprise, and he rushed to her side, pulled her up from the sofa and lifted her against him.

He felt so much younger in that moment, lifting her with his hands cradled beneath her ass, pressing her into the wall, where he finally kissed her with the promise that they'd ease the tension they'd been nurturing all day. "Today…wow," he mumbled against her neck, "You are so…unbelievably…hot," he pulled back his head and looked at her, "Not just as a woman, but…administratively speaking. I don't know how I finished the case."

"Actually, that was really fast," she said, giggling, "Maybe messing around with me helps your thought process."

"It's true. You'll have to come back to my hospital with me once you're done renting me. I don't think I can solve a case without you anymore," he smirked, before pressing her body between his and the wall.

She was practically climbing the wall with her back, as they slid clothes off and found each other hard and wet and completely aroused. The extent of the other's arousal, the day long teasing, and the soothing of old wounds made their need all the more intense. Sex in the dining room and in their shower wasn't enough to prevent them from enjoying an early morning session in their bed. They were exhausted, with the evening and overnight filled with as much of each other as possible.

Working together successfully, remembering some of the roots of their deep attraction, did help to ease old hurts, but for House, things got much better a few days later. When he woke up to Cuddy whispering in his ear, "Happy Anniversary," he felt as if the final remnants of the old pain were washing away.

* * *

Shortly after their anniversary, House and Cuddy found Rachel looking through the photo album from the cruise ship. She pointed at the names written on the album and mumbled, "You guys are so weird."

House and Cuddy smiled, eyes meeting knowingly for a moment, until they heard Rachel say sadly, "I cannot believe that you'd do that and wouldn't invite me. You didn't even ask what I thought? You just went ahead with it?" Rachel started to look angry, "Seriously, you've had a whole year. Why wouldn't you at least tell me you got married? I was so looking forward that, it would have been so cool, and you ruined it!"

"What are you _talking_ about?" House asked.

Rachel pointed to a picture of the two of them with the words, "Just Married," across the bottom.

"We…did _not_ get married. We stole someone else's honeymoon," Cuddy said, as if that was an ordinary thing that couples did.

"Oh." Rachel answered calmly, then argued, "Why _didn't_ you get married?"

"You were mad that we did, and now you're mad that we didn't?" House asked.

"You guys should think about it. Pick flowers. Buy cake. Mom would look beautiful. You'd probably look half decent in a real suit," Rachel teased. "I could wear a dress."

"Your mother always looks beautiful, and I look hot as hell in everything I wear. And you…you wear dresses all of the time," House answered, "Go put one on now, you don't need an excuse."

Rachel shrugged. "You guys are nauseatingly in love after all these years, and you probably have tons of reasons to hate each other by now, but you don't. If you don't hate each other yet…I think you're kinda stuck together. Besides, it would be fun."

House and Cuddy looked at each other and shrugged.

Friends and acquaintances often tried to figure out the dynamic between House and Cuddy, wondering who was the more dominant of the pair. Years later, when people asked who proposed, and under what circumstances, they always just calmly answered, "Rachel. She was looking at pictures of our honeymoon and thought a wedding just made sense."


End file.
